


Show Me Your Badge, And I'll Show You My Gun

by avidffreader



Series: Show Me Your Badge 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Crimes & Criminals, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Falling In Love, First Time Bottom Dean, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Frottage, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Opposites Attract, Rimming, Slow Romance, Smut, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Switching, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Top!Castiel, bottom!Castiel, bottom!Dean, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 59,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidffreader/pseuds/avidffreader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had become an officer at Lawrence KS Police Department, with kid brother Sam as a lawyer at the federal level. The motto on criminals was simple: Dean takes them out, Sam puts them away. </p><p>Not even the addition of a socially awkward blue-eyed evidence technician puts a dent in Dean's system. It all works fine and dandy, until the Morning Star Corporation starts trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

The unfortunate passing of John and Mary Winchester affected their sons in different ways. When Mary died in a house fire set by an arsonist's botched burglary, it left a hole in the heart of four-year-old Dean.

When John died protecting his fellow hostages in a bank robbery showdown, it left a desire for justice in eighteen-year-old Dean and a thirst for knowledge in fourteen-year-old Sam.

Flash forward fifteen years, and Dean had become an officer at Lawrence KS Police Department, with kid brother Sam as a lawyer at the federal level. The motto on criminals was simple: Dean takes them out, Sam puts them away. 

Not even the addition of a socially awkward blue-eyed evidence technician put a dent in Dean's system. It all worked fine and dandy, until the Morning Star Corporation started trouble.

***

Dean Winchester sat behind his Captain's desk, enjoying the high of his new "promotion." After busting his ass for years, Captain Bobby Singer was allowing Dean the use of his office periodically for his work towards becoming Sergeant Officer Winchester. Highly respected and friggin' awesome. Officer Jo Harvelle was currently in front of him, updating him on their stock of criminal cases for the week.

"That's three more guns from the East Side junket, and Garth's bringing in the head of that crack gang we busted last week. Says the leader's willing to sell out the rest of his crew if he gets immunity. And we just brought in the evidence from that domestic abuse case - seems the husband was stockpiling drugs to sell out of his own home, and his kid called the cops on him for hurting the mother. The rest was a bonus find." Jo sorted through her papers, laying the specific ones down on Dean's desk for each case.

Jo was young but smart, her stamina and skill for logic making the organization of all the cases a breeze. She knew her shit, thanks to her mother. Ellen was a hard ass who ran the town's bar, The Roadhouse. She'd instilled a passion for righteousness in her daughter and guiding point for Dean's brother Sam. So much so that when Sam graduated from Stanford, Ellen immediately got him an interview with Victor Henriksen, a prominent attorney general for the county. Victor offered him a position at his assistant.

"All I need to do is take the stuff down to the locker for categorizing, and we can press on to the next stage." She made to pick up the bags, but a hand stopped her.

"I'll do it for you, Jo. Go take an early lunch." Dean gave her his best grin, but Jo wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Geez, Dean, are you going harass Castiel again? You know he hates your guts."

"Nah, he doesn't hate me. He just gets mad that I screw with him so much. He's askin' for it! The little nerd has no clue how to have fun, not even to save his own life."

"One of these days, Dean, it's going to turn around and bite you in the ass."

"Ooo, is that a threat or a promise?"

"Ask _him_ , you dick. God, sometimes you're such a child." Rolling her eyes, Jo left the office, and the drug bags, behind. Dean gathered up the bags and made his way down to the evidence locker, looking forward to battling, as it were, with the ET of Precinct 139.

Castiel Novak - moved to Kansas from NYC, three years older than Dean, as boring as static and completely by the book. From the day they met, sparks had flown. Castiel thought of him as arrogant, insufferable, and an above-the-rules jerk who'd sooner crack a joke at someone's misfortune than attempt to help.

Dean though of him as a finicky, uptight, nagging prude who wouldn't know a good time if it came up and blew him in the ass. Not a day went by that Castiel wasn't reminding someone of precinct protocol, or getting into other officers' workloads to fix loose ends, or offering solid "by the book" advice when not asked.

At first Dean hated him, for all those reasons. But then, as the months went by, he started noticing little things about Castiel that told a different story. One that was secretive, hidden behind a wall he didn't let anyone past, but somehow wanted to be seen and heard anyone.

And now... Dean liked him. And that was interesting.

Dean never just liked someone. He liked Jo for being his best friend since they were kids. He liked Jo's mother Ellen for taking Sam under her wing. He liked Garth for being able to make him laugh, albeit in his own weird way. He certainly loved his gigantic brother Sam, his surrogate father-turned-boss Bobby, and his sweet '67 Chevy Impala (oh, did he ever love his Baby). But all of those had valid and well-grounded reasons.

Dean liked Castiel for very little reason, considering how they met - what he saw was exactly what he got. Castiel didn't play games or cause trouble or screw up when it counted the most. He was hard working, loyal, simplistic in taste and caring deep down under that scruffy trenchcoat he always wore.

Not to mention, handsome to boot. Black hair that was forever mussed. Strong jaw line, toned arms and fit body. Smart as whip. And those eyes... Dean had felt a hitch in his gut when he'd first seen those ocean-blue eyes. Ever since then, some eight months ago, a warm flame had flickered in his chest, growing bigger each time they passed and pushing Dean to learn more and more.

So it was no problem, no hassle, and no trouble at all to go down to the evidence locker to tease the man under the cover of storing drugs. And if Dean were honest with himself, he liked the fights and the bickering. The attention and the acknowledgement. If Dean were really honest with himself, he'd think that maybe Castiel liked it, too.

Now if only he could get the guy to go out for drinks or something. A drunk Castiel, wouldn't that be a sight to see?

***

The locker was always cold. Sixty degrees Fahrenheit, metal encasement all the way around, and as it was added after the initial construction of the precinct, it was cut off from the main grid of central heating. It was better for storage, but that didn't stop every officer from here to Kansas City from complaining about it whenever they came down to check in, log out, or review evidence to their respective cases.

Castiel was perfect for the job. It was quiet, it was enclosed, and he never minded the cold so much - that was what a coat was for. And these days, the officers that wanted specific evidence tags could register in the computer system what they needed, when and for how long, and could be filed if anything turned up missing or different from check-out. Then Castiel could bag it, tag it, and set it on the reception window for pick-up.

Not a bad set-up for his current position. Three months since hiring in, and he finally knew his way around. He was even getting better at remembering names to faces. Some people even knew his own name.

However, there was that one small, very tiny, hardly even mentionable occurrence that happened more often than Castiel thought prudent.

"Hey Novak, you down here, buddy?"

Ah. Right on time. The entrance and subsequent torment by one Dean Wincheser.

"I got some stuff to register, where you at, man? God _damn_ , it's cold in here."

Castiel turned in his chair, walking to the check-in window and peering out at the man with the determination not to let him get under his skin today.

"How may I help you, Officer Winchester?"

"Ahh, c'mon Cas, call me Dean. No need for fancy crap like that."

"During work hours, it is strongly advised to refer to one's comrades by their titles and rank-"

"Ok, ok, geez!" Dean huffed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Anywho, I'm droppin' off a couple bags of weed for the abuse case. Need to log it in."

Castiel nodded, taking the bags and placing them in the slot marked TO TAG. He pulled out a new sheet of paper for hard copy and began to fill it out. It was quiet for a moment, blessedly quiet, and then:

"Ever get the urge to go crazy and goof off with all the stuff down here?"

"No."

"Change up the tags and logged names to say stuff like 'Amanda Huggenkiss?' or 'Baul Likker'?"

" _No_."

"Use your printer to scan copies of your ass?"

" _Dean!_ "

"Ah-ha! Got you, you said my name."

With a huff, Castiel turned and left to grab the evidence tags from the back. Dean smiled, victory short lived, and kept his mouth shut. When Castiel came back, he typed a few things into his register computer and slid the monitor around to face Dean, new page ready to go.

Dean typed in the info slowly, eyes flicking up to watch as Castiel wrote out the tags. He smiled softly.

When Castiel was working, his lips pursed to form a line, eyes squinted as if his own writing offended him somehow, and he always shifted his weight onto his right hip. Didn't help much that his slacks conformed tightly over his ass, but hey, Dean can appreciate.

"Hey Cas... what are you doin' tonight?" He asked quietly.

"Filing the rest of the Munroe evidence and then a meeting with Captain Singer."

"Nah, man, I mean after work. Got any plans?"

Castiel looked up, genuinely surprised at the question. "No. Why would I?"

Dean blinked, then pinched back a laugh. "Well, 'cause it's Friday and you should be havin' fun like a normal person."

"Oh." Castiel looked at his tags, bringing them around to tie onto the bags of weed. "I usually read and make myself some dinner. Sometimes I watch nature documentaries."

Dean sighed, shaking his head in pity and taping on the back of Castiel's hand. "Sad, lonely little man."

"I happen to enjoy it."

"Not tonight, sir, you are coming with us to the Roadhouse."

"The Roadhouse? What is that?"

"A bar, my friend, with drinks and food and pool and actual fun."

"I don't usually frequent such establishments. I doubt I'd be good company for that."

"C'mon, man, loosen up! Live a little, get to know the people you work with!"

Castiel sighed. Would it never end with this man? "If I go, will you stop bothering me so often down here?"

Dean paused, feeling a twinge of hurt in his gut. He didn't think he'd been that bad, he'd thought they were having a little fun.

"Yeah, sure thing, man! I'll prove you wrong, we're a great crew to hang with. Meet me in the parking lot at 7pm right after your meeting."

A short nod, and Castiel handed Dean his receipt papers for the weed. "Until then, Officer. Good-bye."

"Yeah ok, um... seeya, Cas." Taking his papers, Dean beat a hasty retreat. Maybe it hadn't gone as smoothly as he'd planned in his brain, but at least he got him to go out.

He made it back up top and went straight to the main hall of cubicles. He found Jo and Garth talking near the snack tables.

"Change of plans, guys, Novak's comin' with us tonight."

Jo nearly spit out her water. "What?! How the hell did you get him to agree to that?"

"Don't matter, point is he's comin'. And halfway through the night you two are takin' off without us."

"Oh Dean, do you really think he'll fall for that? He'll peace out the moment you open your mouth."

"C'mon, Jo, just this once! I gotta see what he's like outside this place, see if there's anythin' under that damn trenchcoat."

"Yeah, I bet you do. Ow!"

Dean gave a solid punch to Garth's arm. "Watch your trap, Fitz, it don't mean anythin' like that."

Jo rolled her eyes and pulled Garth along with her. "Suuure. We'll see you there, hotshot."

For the rest of the day, Dean was anxiously watching the clock tick by. Minutes turned to hours, and soon enough, he'd be out of here and seeing a pair of sweet baby blues. _Just don't fuck it all up, Winchester_ , his mind taunted him. Not this time - Dean was determined to get to know the real Castiel Novak. And if he had to slam back a few drinks in the process, so be it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Dean waved a short goodbye as Garth and Jo left the parking lot. He leaned up against his car and checked his watch for the second or sixth time. 7:10. Maybe the meeting had run late. Maybe he had to re-do some computer problems or some fancy techno crap like that. Maybe he was setting fire to Dean's locker to frame him for arson.

A few more 'maybes' later, a figure loomed up in Dean's vision. He jumped back, startled, and poised himself with his hand on his gun.

"Jeez, Cas, don't _do_ that! You're gonna get yourself shot or somethin'."

"My apologies, Dean. I'll make more of an effort to warn you. However, if I could slip up next to you so easily, perhaps you yourself need to be more aware."

"Yeah, well, you can - just, uh - keep your stupid comments in your pocket."

As far as comebacks go, Dean's done better, but it was hard to think when a guy like Castiel is staring at you like you hit the mid-bar at a carnival strength test. Clearly above average, but not enough to win the prize. And Dean sure wanted to win that prize.

Now that he had a second to compose, Dean gave a lazy grin and waved to the car door.

"Cas, meet my baby. Sweetest ride this side of Topeka."

Castiel nodded, running a hand over the polished chrome finish.

"I remember her from the doughnut shop. Very classy."

Dean preened, proud that a man who drove a Prius hybrid could still appreciate the finer things in life. He gestured to the passenger door, and walked around to hop in the driver's seat.

The trip over was tense, Castiel unmoving as he watched the scenery pass and Dean with clammy hands on the wheel. A million thoughts rushed through his head as fast as the car itself. Maybe Castiel was hating this. Maybe he was plotting how to dive out of the car once Dean slowed to 20 mph. Maybe he was planning to dine and ditch once they got there, yeah, that'd teach Dean not to reach so high.

"Hey, how 'bout some music, huh Cas?"

He quickly turned on radio, setting it to his tape cassette and blaring the first thing he shoved it.

_'I can't fight this feeling any longer // And yet I'm still afraid to let it show.'_

Dean slapped the radio off, sending them into silence.

"Sorry, man, Sammy's got the crap music all over the place. Guess he forgot to take it with him when he left."

Castiel smirked ever so slightly in the dark.

***

The Roadhouse was packed, familiar voices in the air and the clink of glasses in full swing. When Castiel stepped in, the first thing he registered was a blare of neon lights and the smell of cigarettes. They made their way over to a set of booths where Jo, Garth and Ash had already gotten drinks. A round of hellos and how-are-yous were passed, Dean giving hugs all around while Castiel looked over the rest of the bar. The patrons were all blue collar and easy going, playing billiards or drinking or throwing darts. An old jukebox sat in the corner, playing an 80's song Castiel couldn't make out.

Dean snagged a fry off of Jo's plate and gestured to Castiel. "Look who finally agreed to come, guys. Go easy on him, we're poppin' his bar cherry tonight. Ain't that right, Novak?"

Castiel turned back to look at Dean at the sound of his name, squinting in the dim light. Four faces were looking at him in various emotions; Jo was calculating, Garth was grinning, the man with the mullet was a little sour, and Dean looked hopeful.

"Yes. I am here for drinks and socializing and the like."

"Oh good," said Ash. "Good to know you like human contact, Croissant."

Garth and Dean chuckled at the faint flush on Castiel's cheekbones. Jo looked between them in confusion. "Ok, somebody's going to have to tell me _that_ story later." Dean laughed outright, clapping a hand on Castiel's shoulder and guiding him to sit down.

"No worries, Jo, just the story of the day we met. A regular shit fest."

"Oh, the doughnut shop? Yeah, I remember, you left me high and dry to deal with Singer about the runner. I still demand reparations for that."

"I'll buy you a drink or four, how's that? What about you, Cas, what's your poison?"

"Cyanide."

Garth choked on his whiskey.

"It's the most common method of liquid poison, and a favored among the-"

"No, dude, drinks. Hooch. Fire water. C'mon, man, what do you drink?"

"Oh. I don't drink. Never cared for the taste of alcohol."

"You - you don't _dri_ \- excuse us, kids."

Dean got up and hauled Castiel with him, leading him to the bar where Ellen was scrubbing glasses.

"Ellen, my beauty, my proud girl," Dean said, putting his hand back around Castiel's shoulder. "I need your help pronto. My buddy Cas here doesn't drink, and not so much by choice but by lack of smarts. What's good to start him off with so he learns about the wonders of booze?"

Ellen raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired man before her. Slightly wrinkled coat, messy hair, confusion in eyes way too blue for a human, and definitely tense. His eyes kept darting to the hand on his shoulder, and Ellen bit back a smirk.

"I'd say let him choose what to do, but we all know you're not one for leaving well enough alone, Dean."

"Hey!"

Ellen poured three shot glasses with drinks; one beer, one whiskey, and one gin and tonic.

"Here you go, sunshine. Give these a whirl and see what you think." She leveled a look at Dean that clearly said, _You're picking up his tab, bucko._ Dean nodded, smiling that the night was going fair enough. He hopped up on a bar stool and pushed the beer towards Castiel.

"Start off with a good ol' fashioned beer. Manliest of brown water. 

Castiel drank it, screwing his face up in distaste. "That's awful. Just disgusting." He pushed the shot glass away and picked up the whiskey.

"Ah, you probably won't like that one much better then. Whiskey's got a kick that can lay you flat if you abuse it too much."

Sure enough, Castiel nearly spat out the drink when it hit his tongue. He managed to swallow it, feeling the burn all the way down to his stomach. He coughed and placed the glass back on the table, glaring at Dean.

"Hey whoa, don't blame me, man. Just seeing what hits you right. Try the gin and tonic, that's exactly that. Gin watered down with tonic water and lime for kick."

Castiel hesitated, eyeing the last drink. After a moment, he picked it up and drank it in one go, expecting the worst. When nothing happened and the initial sting of alcohol eased, he found it wasn't so bad.

"That wasn't so bad."

"Hey, all right, we got a winner! Don't overdo it tonight, Cas, just feel it out. Maybe next time, try somethin' further up the ladder." Dean leaned in, trying not to sound too hopeful about 'next time', and gave Castiel his friendliest grin. Castiel looked back, eyes searching out Dean's face for sincerity, before settling on his eyes and nodding.

"Maybe next time."

He ordered a regular gin and tonic from Ellen, and took it back to his seat. Dean watched him go, feeling that stupid little flame inside spark up again. While they weren't exactly buddies, at least by this point Dean was sure the guy didn't _hate_ him. He didn't turn down the offer of next time, after all.

"Not bad, kid. A little uptight, but there's potential."

Ellen's voice broke him from his reverie, and he looked over his shoulder. "Nah, nothin' like that. The guy's an evidence tech at the precinct. Just tryin' to get him out of his cave and help him make friends."

Ellen nodded neutrally, stacking the glasses along the edge of the bar. "Just be patient. Something's a little different about him from the usual."

Dean watched as Castiel spoke with Garth, sipping his drink while Jo and Ash offered their own for taste testing. Castiel's shoulders finally seemed relaxed, and he answered questions a little more easily than before. It struck Dean then that while he knew a little bit about Castiel (not enough though, to be friends), he didn't know anything prior to his transfer to Kansas. Castiel never talked about it.

To be fair, Dean hadn't told him about his own life, but Castiel didn't seem to have anything. No hobbies, barely any contacts in his cell phone, no cards or letters at the office during birthdays or holidays. He stayed down in the cage all day, coming up for lunch, but barely anyone spoke to him.

He seemed... lonely, almost.

Dean wasn't too fond of that idea.

"Hey Ellen, whip up some easy drinks. First timer stuff, y'know."

"Don't mess this up, kid. You go slow."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doin'. And yes, by the way, put it all on my tab, I'm no cheapskate."

As Dean left the bar with his purchases, he tried to squash that niggling thought in the back of his mind.

_Don't mess this up. Don't mess this up._

***

"And I swear, if I hadn't pitched the whole thing in the lake, I promise you I'd be demoted to one of those safety cops that goes around schools giving kids the business about drugs."

"That's what you get for being stupid."

A sharp _whack!_ from Jo had Ash retracting his comment, and Castiel discovered he'd finished his drinks. He looked up to the view of a tray being set down in front of him. Piled high were crispy wings, fries, onion rings, nachos and two fat burgers loaded with toppings. There were three small glasses as well, and Dean placed them in front of Castiel when he sat down.

"Try these, Novak, if you can stomach lady drinks. I got you a mimosa, a screw driver, and a fuzzy navel. Mostly fruit based, so you can say you drank healthy."

"Saying it doesn't make it true."

"Yeah, well, A for effort and all that."

To his surprise, Castiel drank all three in succession, declaring the fuzzy navel to be the most appealing. He was left with a glass of water, and was that a _pout_ on his lips?

"Next time, buddy. We'll get you drunk off your ass next time!"

While the rest of the table demolished the snacks, Dean and Castiel focused on their burgers. Dean got his animal style, of course, while Ellen had deconstructed Castiel's to let him choose what he wanted. Buns and burger, lettice, tomato, pickles, three sides of ketchup, mustard and horseradish, and bacon. Castiel looked at Dean with a question in his eyes.

"Dude, The Roadhouse has the best burgers in the tri-county area. It don't get any better than that. Trust me."

"How should I eat it?"

"You hate any of the stuff there?" He pointed to the toppings and sauces.

"Just horseradish."

"Then slap all of 'em on and take a bite!"

Castiel did as instructed, taking a bite out of the massive burger and chewing slowly. He blinked once, then twice, then bit again. After half the burger had been eaten, he turned to Dean.

"This is delicious," he said, with almost wonderment in his tone.

And then he had the audacity to smile.

Time slowed for just a second, allowing Castiel's teeth to shine bright. The crinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened. He looked younger, relaxed, maybe even happy. The air left the room in a whoosh, surprising Dean enough to where he knocked over his water glass when his knee jerked the table. He blinked, hands stuttering forward to grab the glass upright, and slap a pile of napkins on the puddle before it could hit his jeans.

The whole table erupted in laughter, and after a moment Dean joined right along. They were still chuckling when Castiel got up to go to the bar. It felt good, being in the moment and letting go of control for once without fear for safety. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way, not since Sam had moved out.

His merriment slowed when Castiel sat back down and laid a hand on his arm. His eyes were a little glassy, and his speech was just barely on the side of slurred. Definitely not drunk, but four alcoholic drinks (albeit small) were enough to get Castiel tipsy. Dude was a lightweight, it seemed.

"Here you go. A new water glass for you and a Shirley Temple for me."

"Why the soda?"

"You said I needed a cherry tonight, this is the only drink I could think of that had one."

Dean stared, laughing as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Oh man, Cas. You are somethin' else."

Jo smirked around a mouthful of wings. "I do believe Dean said something about popping a cherry?"

Dean whipped his head around, glaring at her. Ash began to laugh and Garth focused on stuffing as many onion rings in his mouth as he could. Castiel volleyed back and forth between the two, confusion written on his face.

"S'just an expression, Cas, don't worry. 'Cause you never been to a bar and it's your first time and all." His defense trailed off weakly, and he looked at Castiel with as much nonchalance as he could.

The man in question was staring at the drink like it had personally offended him. After a second he seemed to decide something, and he reached in to pluck the cherry from the top of the soda. He put it between his teeth, and with a audible _pop_ , he sucked the cherry right off the long stem.

Dean froze.

After chewing the pulp and swallowing, Castiel glanced at the stem briefly before putting it in his mouth as well. He turned slowly to stare at Dean. A small grin graced his face as he moved his tongue around and around in his mouth, poking the sides of his cheeks and every so often peeking out between full lips. Dean watched, mesmerized as Castiel leaned forward ever so slightly and stuck his tongue out. There on the tip was the cherry stem, tied in not one but _two_ fucking knots.

Dean stared at it. He stared at Cas.

Then the bastard spit it out, right in Dean's face. It bopped him on the nose and fell to the table top.

Jo was the first to giggle, followed by a chortle from Ash, a snicker from Garth, and a full, rumbling laugh from Castiel himself as the alcohol hit home and he finally let loose. So what if Dean was the catalyst for it? So what if Castiel got a headache later, or even forgot the night? At that moment, at that table, Dean felt the warm little spark inside go from a smoldering flicker to a bright and steady flame. That laugh was worth a million cherry stems. The hand on his arm was worth a thousand glares in the cage back at the precinct. Those eyes when Castiel smiled were worth embarrassing REO Speedwagon ballads in the car.

Dean mentally slapped himself. _No chick flick moments, you moron, not even up here._ But at least he was able to admit, if privately to himself, that he really did like Castiel. He glanced over at the bar, only to catch Ellen's gaze. She was smiling, quirking her eyebrow in that way that said, _See? Told you so. Potential._

Dean looked down, face warm, but when Castiel slid his basket of fries between them to share, he decided it didn't matter. So he slid over just a bit, under the excuse of getting the ketchup from the middle of the table, and allowed his thigh to nudge up and stay against Castiel's own. It was warm and firm along Dean's, and when Castiel didn't move away from him after Dean had resettled, Dean counted that as win.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

It was nearing ten o'clock when Jo and Garth decided to call it a night, followed shortly after by Ash ("If I don't get up at the ass crack of dawn to open the store, I loose all my business to that geriatric broad down the street who gives half-off coffee when you buy a dozen."). Still early for a Friday night, so the Roadhouse was in full swing.

"Later, boys, see you bright and early Monday!" Jo saluted them, waving to her mom over the bar and dragging Garth out by the ear. She looked over her shoulder once, catching Dean's eye. She mouth the words _go slow_ and winked before disappearing out the front door. Dean blushed, reaching over to the cooled onion rings and snagging one in his teeth. Go slow at what? Being friendly? It'd already been half a year or something, how much slower can you get?

"You're not so bad, Croissant, holding your own against Winchester here." Ash's voice cut through Dean's thoughts, and he turned to see Ash pushing a Long Island ice tea at the technician. Castiel took it easily, swallowing two large gulps before Dean snatched it away.

"Dude, I said take it easy, man! Don't overdo it on your first night drinking. You're gonna get sick."

Castiel opened his mouth to argue and then thought the better of it. He settled for a hot wing, nodding when Ash stood up to leave.

"Don't get into too much trouble, kids."

"Later, Ash. Stock up on bear claws, I still owe Jo."

"You got it, man. Finish my drinks if you want." He pushed the remaining glasses of booze towards them and headed out into the night.

As much as Dean wanted a drink to ease the roiling inside, he was the DD, and therefore responsible for Castiel's well-being. Castiel, who at the moment was totally relaxed and easy going, having added to the group conversations and offering to get more drinks and food as needed. It seemed more frequent at the beginning of the night, once Castiel learned the magic phrase, "Put it on my tab."

Or rather, Dean's tab. He knew for a fact that Ellen was popping the numbers into his own account there. But as Dean had already conceded to, the loss of his paycheck was worth it. So maybe he won't get himself that top-of-the-line stereo he'd been admiring for a month, or the seductive lure of the memory foam mattress he's almost napped on in the department store last week. He'd live without them.

Because Castiel was talking to him. And not to scold or correct or just add one-word answers to inquiries, but really talking to him. Bonus points for eye contact and body language aiming towards him. Of course, it could all be due to the wonders of alcohol, and it was Castiel's first time getting drunk. But nevertheless, it was a good time.

Dean was pleased to finally be able to catalog facts and interests about the blue-eyed ET for the future. Castiel liked the color blue. He has a brother named Gabriel, a cousin named Balthazar, and a sister named Anna. They, as well as his parents Chuck and Naomi, still lived in NYC. He makes sandwiches for lunch every day and lives not too far from Dean's apartment. He read a lot and watched occasional TV. He'd had a few relationships in college, but Meg was "psychotic" and Inias was "clingy" so there'd been no one since. He didn't really have any friends, but was extremely fond of Captain Singer.

Dean smiled and nodded. Bobby was indeed a great person. Dean could only hope to be the kind of man Bobby was.

"You _are_ as good a man as Captain Singer. You have an excellent track record, Dean. With the possibility of being Sergeant in your future, you should not worry. Many of your fellow officers look up to you. You've got a strong work ethic, and you handle your gun very well, and your uniform is always up to code and respectable." Castiel looked dead serious in his speech, eyes firmly latched onto the officer before him.

Dean blinked at the thought that Castiel had noticed him beyond the Cage. And in uniform? That was... that was interesting to know. Dean squelched the embers reaching up from the inner flame to his chest and quickly changed topics.

"So Cas, why'd you move here from New York? I figure they got everything out there. What makes Kansas the place to plant roots?"

Castiel paused, drink halfway to his lips, eyes almost going out of focus. He set it down, looking away from Dean and focusing on the scratched wood grain of the table.

"I did something at my old precinct that I couldn't come back from."

"What do you mean?"

"I used to be an officer. Like you."

Dean's mouth dropped. This was something he'd never expected. He looked the man over. Yeah, he definitely had the body type for the job, assuming he could run and was flexible enough for some of the more clever suspects' escape routes. But a cop? Holding a gun and going outside? The idea was weird.

"What happened, Cas?"

"I had a case where I put someone away, for good reason, and that person died because of it. The people he left behind wanted revenge. So much so that they burned my home to the ground and tried going after my brother Gabriel. I did not want to be a source of danger to my family or my job, so I changed my name and left. My old Captain, Rufus Turner, he set me up here with Captain Singer."

Dean hesitated for the barest moment before putting his hand over Castiel's. Castiel didn't shy away.

"I switched positions, I stay in the Cage all day to avoid being seen, and I write letters back home through a third person to avoid tracking. I can't speak too much about what I do or why. My family knows I'm alive and well, if not exactly 'happy', but it is worth it. People who could harm them are no longer after them. That's all that matters."

"Of course, man. What was your name before?"

"Milton. 'Novak' was the name of a friend of Anna's, a man named James, so I borrowed it. So to speak."

He looked at Dean almost defiantly, as if daring him to say something contrary or opinionated to his confession. Dean squeezed his hand, for once saying exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.

"If it were me? If it were Sammy on the line? I'd have done it, too. You're not alone, man. I get you."

"You would truly leave someone you loved behind if it meant they'd be safe? Without a word?"

"Yes."

Castiel looked him in the eyes, searching for sincerity and honesty. He must have found it, for he smiled a soft smile, nodding his head. "Thank you for understanding, Dean."

Dean coughed, dropping his gaze and putting on a lofty smile. "Well, that said, let's pay the tab before I break the bank. Be right back, just gotta talk to Ellen."

"Please, Dean, let me help with that." Castiel reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat, only to come up empty handed. He dug around the second and even the secret third pouch, but to no avail. "I must have left my wallet and keys back in the Cage." A dumbstruck look came across his face. How could that have happened? He never forgot the lock-up system, he always had everything in its place.

Dean patted him on the shoulder. "No worries, Cas, just crash at my place tonight. You can't drive, and if you can't get into your apartment, what would you do? I'll take you back to the precinct tomorrow."

Castiel glared at Dean, or tried to, but the tipsy look was failing. "You made me forget," he accused.

"Hey dude, not my fault you rushed out in such a hurry to see me," Dean teased, making his way to the bar. Ellen was shoving drinks down the line to a harried server. She smiled that haughty smile as Dean approached with his credit card.

"See you two have been having a time of it."

"Just friends, Ellen. Or gettin' there, anyway. Looks like I'm takin' him back to my place, he left his keys at work."

"Dean Winchester, I swear, if you even think about-"

"Ellen, geez, I'm not gonna do anything! In case you didn't hear me, I'm just friends with the guy. So keep your nose out of my love life."

Ellen wisely kept shut, smiling broadly as Dean turned to march away. He stopped and turned back to add, "And it's not even a love life!"

Her laughter followed him as he led Castiel out of the Roadhouse and into the Impala.

***

The ride back was comfortable this time, Dean acquiescing to let Castiel pick a smooth jazz radio station. Some dude that Castiel identified as Luther Vandross began singing about things he'd rather do, but Dean blanked it out to focus on the road home, maybe driving a little slower than normal. Castiel was swaying slightly to the music, mouthing along to the words, and generally touching everything. He sorted through the box of cassette tapes on the floor. He looked inside the glove box. He squinted his eyes at the rattling sound in the vent when the heat was turned on.

When they pulled up to Dean's home, a modest two-bedroom townhouse, Castiel found that the door handle was moving on him. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he managed to grab it with a firm twist, and ended up face first on the pavement. Dean came around, stifling a laugh as he helped lug Castiel to his feet.

"This way, champ."

They headed into the house, Dean flicking on the table side lamps for low lighting, and offering to take Castiel's trenchcoat and suit jacket. He sat the man down on the old ratty couch from a yard sale some years back, and went into the kitchen.

"Hey Cas, you want something to drink?"

A low groan answered.

"Too bad."

The _whirring_ of a blender sent Castiel face first into the cushions, unmoving and unresponsive until a glass of something cold touched his cheek. He cracked one glaring eye at it before raising it to meet Dean's own.

"Orange juice, dude. And a couple of Advil. Take it or I'll yell in your ear."

Castiel sat up, the movement sending a stab of pain in his skull, but he took the pills and drank the glass of juice with no complaint. Dean patted his back and went to dispose of it in the sink. He came back and sat down next to Castiel.

"Ok, buddy, time to get you to bed. You're gonna feel like shit in the morning, just so you know."

"I can sleep on th'couch, Dean. No need t'go to extremes fr'me."

"Nope. Not happenin'. All I need is for you to roll off in the middle of the night on the coffee table break the glass. That'd be a bitch to clean up. Get your butt up and let's go, you're sleepin' in my room."

"I'm not a nuisance."

"Say what?"

"A 'bitch' for doing action is a description that means a nuisance. In New York... a lot of people said I was a nuisance. Because I brought them down or never had any fun or didn't know how t'relax. But I can here. I like it here. Your house is like a mitten 'cause it's warm n'comfy."

"Sure... whatever that means."

Together they made their way through the hallway and into Dean's bedroom. Castiel stumbled, muttering words Dean couldn't make out. Dean was leaning forward to open the door of the room when Castiel's weight shifted down on his chest, and a pair of lips met with the side of his neck. They gave just a pinch of pressure before sliding down the column of Dean's throat and mashing into his collarbone. Dean breathed for a moment before continuing into the room without a word. Maybe Castiel didn't even know what he was doing. That's booze for you.

"See? Told you I wasn't a nuisance. I can be good. I jus' wanna stay... cn'I stay, Dean? Please?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean stuttered, hefting Castiel's weight up and aiming them towards the bed. "You can stay. This is a safe place for you, and I don't think you're a nuisance."

"Ok," Castiel whispered.

Dean cleared his throat and aimed for the cocky, laid-back tone again. "All right, drunky, here we go!"

He leaned down, sliding Castiel off his shoulder and onto the mattress. The impact sent a groan in the air, and Castiel curled up tight around a pillow like a man with his nuts kicked. Dean shucked off Castiel's shoes and managed to remove the tie from the technician's neck. He tugged the covers up and over to man's waist before heading to the trash can by the desk.

"M'fine, Dean. I drank only as much as the speed limit, maybe a bit more, but m'not drunk."

Dean shook his head, moving the can to the side of the bed closest to Castiel's face. He dimmed the lights, left the bathroom door open for easy access, and shut the curtains tight.

"Suuure. Well, you're better off than I normally am, Novak. By now I'd have drunk twice as much and would still aim for more. You're a lightweight, and I warned ya." He turned to grin at Castiel, stopping short at the sight.

Castiel had fallen asleep, face smushed between the pillow and the headboard. He looked younger, more relaxed and breathing deeply against the (thankfully) clean linens Dean had put on the night before. It struck Dean that for a man as tightly-wound as Castiel, who'd admitted some of his concerns and irritations that very night, it was probably hard to fall asleep in new places or without some sort of system or nighttime regimen to keep him on track. The fact that he'd easily fallen asleep here, trusting a coworker who was in many ways still a stranger, was humbling.

And scary.

Dean swallowed. He wasn't sure he knew, or even liked, what was starting to happen to him. This unexplainable feeling of comfort and contentment when Castiel reacted positively towards him, when he was actually happy, or offering secret parts of himself to Dean without reservation (alcohol be damned). The sight of him now, curled up asleep in one of the most private and personal spaces of Dean's life, was disconcerting. It was weird enough in the Impala, but in his own home, in his _bed_...

Something _was_ happening here, and Dean couldn't stop the gravitational pull towards this one unconventional person, who Dean suspected might be able to really burrow inside his heart, given the chance.

The question was, would Dean allow it?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Castiel woke the next morning to birdsong, sunlight, and a jackhammer in his temple. He rolled over, eyes opening to blearily stare at the bedside table. A glass of water was there as well as two Advil, nestled in front of a framed photo. Castiel took the pills and downed the water before bringing the photo frame to his line of sight.

_This is not my photo._

The thought passed through his brain on instinct, the first clue he wasn't at home. The picture was of a young man and woman, smiling with a little boy in the man's arms and a baby in the woman's.

_I do not own a baby._

It looked old, probably from the 80's, but well-worn and loved if the expensive frame was an indication. Castiel put the photo back on the table and sat up, bed sheets falling to his waist. He took in the bedroom, the two pairs of shoes kicked off on the floor, his tie on the bathroom handle, and the little note on the pillow next to his that said, "Rise and shine, hot shot! Throw on any of my old clothes if you want and come on down to breakfast."

_I am not at home._

It finally kicked in that he was at Dean's home, in his bed, reeking of alcohol and having successfully wrinkled his work shirt and pants. He remembered leaving his wallet and keys at work and going out to the bar, drinking copious amounts of liquor despite knowing it was his first time getting drunk, and mingling with his coworkers. It didn't go unnoticed that he'd only been able to get along with others due to the effects of alcohol and loss of inhibition, not for his personality or demeanor. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Bemoaning the facts didn't make them any less true.

With great effort and little humor, Castiel rose from the bed and padded to the bathroom. One shower and one mouthwash rinse later, he emerged from the hallway in a pair of Dean's sweats and a loose shirt that said, **Cops Do It In Handcuffs**. He gave up trying to fix his hair, and walked silently into the kitchen to see Dean singing softly as he rinsed something in the sink. Castiel recognized a few bars of the Kansas song Dean had played the night before on the drive home.

"Good morning, Dean."

Dean's voice cracked on a note, and the plate in his hands slipped back into the soapy water. A splash of it hit him in the chest.

"Geez, Cas, don't do that! Wear a freakin' bell or somethin'!"

"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Yeah, well, you did. Now sit your ass down and have some coffee. I got pancakes goin' on the stove."

Castiel sat, sipping the slightly hot coffee and staring at the placemat on the table. He tried to remember the events of the night before, but everything after getting into Dean's car was hazy. There was music. The smell of the bed sheets when his face had hit the pillow. Dean had said something to him, but he couldn't remember the words, only that it was quiet and reassuring. Had he said something back? How did all of that even happen? Castiel does not get drunk, it's not his nature. What he did remember, though, was telling Dean a bit about New York, and that was a cause for concern. _No one_ knew about New York.

"Dean."

"Just a minute, man, this one's bein' a bitch."

Dean flipped the last pancake over, hitting the side of the pan and smearing batter over its lip.

"Well, crap."

After a moment he scrapped it off, considered it good enough to eat, and slapped it on the plate with the rest of the pancakes. He brought them over to the table as well as a glass of orange juice, setting the glass in front of Castiel and putting four pancakes on his plate before sitting down.

"All right, pancakes à la Dean. Best there ever was, Cas, I can promise you that."

He started eating with relish, and Castiel stared at him as he chewed. He looked happy, mouth stuffed and syrup peeking at the corner of his mouth. Castiel looked at his own plate, inhaling the scent of the warm cakes and watching the condensation of the cold orange juice slide down the side of the glass. No one's made breakfast for him since he was a teenager. No one bothered to care before, not even Meg (who made _him_ cook) or Inias (who never let Castiel over to his house). He raised his eyes to Dean, feeling a tug in his gut as the officer smiled at him, cheeks puffed with food.

"Dean," he started again. "Thank you. For... for everything yesterday, and this morning."

Dean waved it off with his fork, the unspoken _don't worry about it_ clear in the gesture.

"I can't remember much after arriving here, but I did not blow you, did I?"

Dean choked, the pancake sticking in his throat mid-swallow. He coughed, pounding his chest and grabbing his juice for a large gulp. He blinked a few times, eyes watering.

"...say that again?"

"I did not ignore you, or push your attentiveness away with my attitude? As you know, I've never been drunk, so I do not know how I act around others. I wonder if I blew you and your trouble with me away?"

"Blow _off_ , Cas. You did not blow me _off_. _That_ means ignorin' or denyin' attention. You can't forget the 'off', dude. And for the record, blowing someone away means you impress 'em, not literally blowing air on them to make 'em float or somethin' like that."

"Ah, I see. I understand that." Castiel nodded to himself as if it were grave information, and he began to eat his breakfast.

Dean shook his head, torn between laughing and leaving the table. A brief but vivid image of Castiel 'blowing' him had passed his mind and it was weird and crazy and kind of nice. Kind of very nice. But nice or not, Dean needed to stamp that thought out for the moment. He knew from experience that sex could really fuck up a relationship if the affection wasn't there to build on, and grow with. He'd messed up with Cassie and Lisa that way, doing the do and seeing the spark die out quickly after. And Aaron? Well, he did it right initially, but then Aaron'd been the one who hadn't returned it. And now Castiel...

Castiel, who had started that flame inside that had yet to wane. Who's thoughts and opinions actually mattered to Dean. And now, this fledgling friendship they had? It was a little like flying; a sense of freedom, being himself and not getting flack for it. Having Castiel open up to him, willingly and trustingly, and maybe even letting Dean help him out somehow. That'd be great... to be needed by someone.

***

They finished breakfast in comfortable silence, Castiel offering to iron the wrinkles from their clothes while Dean washes the dishes ("I have an iron?"). Freshly pressed and clean, the two men left the comfort of Dean's little home and drove back to the precinct. As a compromise, they let the radio choose the music, and neither had a complaint when Air Supply came on.

There were only a few people milling around the pen when they arrived, and no one noticed Castiel was wearing the same suit as the day before, thanks to the ever-present trenchcoat. Dean waved a jaunty hello to Jo as they walked towards the staircase leading to the Cage. She waved back, giving a thumbs up, and laughing when Dean's face turned a pretty shade of pink.

Castiel unlocked the Cage door, noticing the pile of evidence bags tagged on the counter that needed to be filed away. He collected his wallet and keys from the drawer beneath his desk, and turned to face Dean.

"This is where I work."

"...yeah, I got that."

"No, I- I mean this is my livelihood. Do you know how it all works down here?"

"Actually, no. I just assumed you took the stuff and stuffed it somewhere?"

"Close, Dean. Everything needs to be cataloged in order to be retrieved later for court cases, review, pick up from civilians once process has been completed on them, and the general safety of some of the higher levels of danger. Like semi-automatics, and dead grenades."

Dean stopped, blinking rapidly. "Dead grenades?"

"Yes. Sometimes the older war veterans go into trances or mind-sets where they think they still need to be guarded against their otherwise civilian life. They keep grenades and other such war paraphernalia around their homes, and while inactive, the components therein could be used for other-"

"Ok, ok, I get it, Cas!" Dean held up a hand and laughed. "I don't know half of that fancy talk you use, I just know that stuff that goes 'boom' needs to go away from me."

"Yes. I can take the 'boom' away from you." Castiel smiled, just a bit, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Boy, do you ever."

Dean froze, not realizing the words that had slipped out of his idiot mouth until it was too late. He glanced at Castiel, who seemed none the wiser. He breathed a sigh of relief. That'd been close. Better retreat before he slips up again.

"Anyway, thanks again for comin' out with us, Cas. The guys' really liked you. You're not so bad when you get out from the job, y'know?"

"Thank you for inviting me, Dean. I am very glad you pestered me into going."

"Ouch, Cas."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I meant," Castiel stammered a bit, wishing he could take back the sad look that had entered Dean's eyes. "I meant, that despite how it seemed to be annoying when you came to talk to me, I realize it was own fault for not being flexible enough to see beyond work. For not seeing you. I am glad I went out with you and your friends. I should like to be called one of them as well."

Dean's eyes brightened at the speech. "We're friends, Cas."

"Good. Good."

"And to officially induct you into the circle of friendship, what say you come over next week for movie night? My little brother Sam's coming, you can meet him."

"Oh yes, I should like to meet Sam. You speak of him often."

"I do?" Dean can't remember speaking about Sam, but then again, he did babble a lot when it came to Castiel. Mostly to get the guy to pay attention. Crap, what else has he said and forgotten before?

"Yes. He's a lawyer, correct? You're very proud of him. I can see why; we often have him dealing with cases that come through. I have faith in his abilities, and more than once he's helped someone innocent or helped convict the unjust. A very genial and prestigious man."

"What'd I say about fancy talk, Cas? Simple words with me, my man. Anyway, come back to the house next Friday at 7pm, we're havin' burgers and beer. Capisce?"

Castiel nodded, "Yes, I capisce."

Dean grinned, knocking his fist on the Cage check-in counter, and left.

It occurred to Castiel an hour or so later that he still had not addressed the issue of New York with Dean. His sober mind offered up outcome after outcome of what Dean would say, or think, if he knew what Castiel had done out there. And despite having been antagonistic-coworkers-now-turned-friends, Castiel was loath to let go of this new level of their relationship.

Castiel did not make friends. And while some of it was by choice, a lot of it was just because he knew he was different. That he lacked some kind of vibe or demeanor that drew people to him they way they flocked to Dean. Anna always said friendships were like clothes shopping. People came to you, checked you out, tried you on to see if you fit, and then moved on. Maybe it was the color, the size, the pattern, the price, but most people decided that Castiel was not a shirt worth buying.

He got used to it, filed away the baser feelings, found distractions and carried on through life. It was good to be small. It was good to hide. This way kept him and his family safe. But then he met Dean.

Dean was patient, and outgoing, and despite pushing boundaries, he also was tenacious and good. He put others first, and was always doing something to better the lives of others. Simple, little things that usually go unnoticed. Carrying Jo's papers to the file closet at the end of the day. Slipping water instead of beer into Ash's hand the previous night. Bringing Castiel the pancakes and watching over him.

Castiel was happy to know this side of Dean, to let go of the old prejudices he'd had since he first met the laid-back officer some months ago. He decided to come clean, and offer Dean the backstory he'd kept hidden for so long. If this friendship was not meant to be, better to nip it in the bud before they got too close. But if he were lucky, maybe something out there would let him stay with Dean.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Friday came faster than expected, and Castiel found himself on Dean's porch, a pan of brownies in hand. He knocked on the door, shifting from foot to foot, and when the door opened he looked up at a giant of a man, with shaggy brown hair and wide grin.

"Hey! You must be Castiel. My name's Sam, good to finally put a face to the name."

He gave Castiel a once-over, pursing his lips together tightly to keep from chuckling. Castiel looked about him for the source of the amusement, but Sam merely shook his head. They shook hands, Sam ushering Castiel inside the house and taking the brownies from him.

"Awesome, Dean loves brownies. Good choice, Castiel."

Castiel nodded, unsure what to say. He sat down on Dean's familiar couch and folded his hands in his lap while he waited. Sam walked by him, hollering into the hallway, "Dean! Castiel's here, get your rear in gear!" He walked back to the kitchen, sending a grin Castiel's way.

"Dinner's almost ready, we got steaks and potatoes and salad and your dessert. Dean should be out any minute. Make yourself comfortable!"

Castiel smiled, feeling the tension dissipate in the air in the wake of Sam's friendliness. He was exactly how Dean had described him.

"Thank you, Sam. I'm honored to be here."

He looked around the living room, and the sparse but cozy surroundings, and settled his eyes on a modest bookshelf next to Dean's old TV. He crouched down, sifting through the various titles Dean had crammed in, headless of title or author. There was Vonnegut, Lee, Shurley, a random Harry Potter, a collection books of the works of Shakespeare (when Castiel peeked in the cover, there was a note from Sam saying, _Try reading this if it doesn't hurt your brain ;) ~Sam)_ , and a romance novel. Wedged behind the romance novel was a magazine, with a flashy cover. Castiel pulled it out and brought it to the couch while he waited for Dean to return.

Upstairs, the man in question was toweling off his hair, dressed in an easy-going outfit of jeans and his old Zeppelin shirt. Tonight was no different from any other movie night, except Castiel was here. And that wasn't weird, he'd been there a week before. Drunk. In Dean's bed. And he's attempted to kiss him. Or maybe not, who knew, it was a weird night. So Dean didn't dress up to look fancy or impress. Just a couple of brothers hanging out with their coworker for movies and steak. What could go wrong?

Apparently a fair amount. Dean headed into the living room, stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Castiel was there, sitting on the couch, dressed in jeans and one of the most God-awful sweaters the cop had ever seen - an unsightly mishmash of blue stripes, puke yellow solids and an orange triangle. It was hideous. And worse yet, a majority of it was covered by the magazine Castiel was flipping through, the one and only issue of **Asian Busty Beauties** that Dean had misplaced and forgotten about. It was the June issue of the previous year... Ming Ming Yum Yum was the cover model... a good month.

"Whoa, hey, let's just, uh- let's just put that back then!" Dean snatched the magazine from Castiel's hands, running back to his room and chucking it on the bed. He came back, nervously fidgeting his fingers as he steered Castiel from the couch to the kitchen.

Sam had placed the food on the table, and they all sat down to eat. It was comfortable, Sam asking Castiel about his line of work for the justice system, filling them in on his own progress at court, and Dean waxing poetic on the joys of solo stakeouts where he could listen to music and eat whatever he wanted, all while getting paid.

"It is a little worrisome that you'd be alone on those types of assignments, Dean. Don't you have a partner, or an assigned back-up in case there is trouble?"

"Nah, it's a small town, Cas. We don't get a lot of trouble out here. It's the bigger cities that have more problems, we just worry about jaywalkers and the occasional drug sale downtown."

"Hm. Well, if ever you needed assistance on such a case, I could ride along to help if needed."

Dean stared at his potatoes, pushing them to the side of his plate. He looked up briefly at Sam, who was looking back with a smile and narrowed eyes. He looked away, focusing on a bite of steak before answering, "Yeah, that'd be fun. Thanks, Cas."

When it was time for dessert, Sam brought out Castiel's brownies, and cut two pieces for each plate. They smelled fantastic, and tasted even better, right up until Dean took his third bite and heard a _crunch._ He paused, reaching in his mouth to pull out a shard of eggshell. Sam followed shortly after with his own _crunch_ , and when they all cut the brownie into smaller pieces, they could see the remains of eggshells scattered through.

"I- I do not think I did that right."

Castiel looked confused, like how did eggshells get there in the first place. Sam began to laugh. Dean held up one of the shards. "Did you break the egg in the mix, Cas?"

"Yes, the recipe calls for two eggs."

"The insides, Cas. Not the shell. You-" he started to snicker. "You added the whole thing, didn't you?"

"I believe I did. I've never baked before."

Sam's laugh became a roar, and Dean fought the urge to bang his forehead on the table. This was absurd and hilarious and so very Castiel it almost hurt. Dean was immensely glad he invited the ET out to movie night. This was becoming the best night he could remember in years.

The moment passed, and before long the three men had finished dinner and were halfway through 'Indiana Jones' when Sam fell asleep. He was sprawled out fully on the couch, Dean and Castiel sitting in front with their legs propped on the coffee table.

Dean found himself watching Castiel just as often as the movie, gauging reactions and offering meta on the parts where Castiel was confused. After a particularly funny scene, he laughed and turned to tell Castiel the meaning of the joke, only to have Castiel's piercing blue eyes already trained on him.

 _Kiss him_.

_Wait, no, shut up brain!_

"Dean. I need to tell you something."

"Ok."

"It's about when I lived in New York, about being a police officer out there."

"Ok."

Castiel was nervous, blinking rapidly and swallowing. This was it. This was the big reveal.

"When I was in New York, I was Castiel Milton, as my father took my mother's maiden name for the family. I was in charge of the case of Lucifer Morning Star, head of the Morning Star Corporation. He'd been indicted on charges of drug trafficking, armed sales, prostitution rings and extortion. His younger brother Michael was the leader of the gang beneath him, and when we finally broke into the drug ring, we were able to arrest him. Lucifer got away, and my work was able to get Michael convicted. He died in prison.

"Lucifer wanted revenge. He did not care how he got it. He tried to kidnap my sister, but she and my brother Gabriel were put into protective custody. That's when he took the next step and set fire to my house. I made the choice to leave then. My parents cut me off for doing what I did, despite Michael's illegalities and Lucifer's attacks. They still believed he just needed help."

"Wait, what?"

"Lucifer is my cousin, on my mother's side. He changed his name from Milton to Morning Star to avoid being connected to us, his family, should his opposing crime syndicates try to use us as leverage. It is ironic that his own cousin would be the one to try and stop him, and he'd turn on the very family he wanted to protect, in the name of vengeance."

Castiel had looked away by then, staring sightlessly at the movement on the TV screen.

"I had no qualms about abandoning my family, about turning them in. I wanted justice over love, and I regret what it has done to us all. And I wanted to tell you, so you could know exactly who I am and why I am the way I am."

Dean remained silent, his brow a crease in intense thought. When he had yet to speak, Castiel nodded sadly, and stood to retrieve his coat.

"Thank you very much for your time and hospitality, Dean. It means a lot, despite how I may act."

"Whoa whoa, hey now, don't go runnin' off like that, Cas. You didn't give a chance to say anythin'."

Castiel paused, hanging his coat back up and returning to his seat next to Dean on the floor.

"Now... I know family is important, family is damn important, but when you choose to turn your back on them in the first place, doin' illegal shit and puttin' them in harm's way, that starts drawin' lines. And I think, if it were me... if Sammy had done somethin' stupid, and no amount of talkin' or tryin' to help was working... I might put him away, too. Greater good and all that."

Dean put his arm around Castiel's shoulders, lugging the guy in close to his side in an awkward side hug.

"Don't go thinkin' you're stupid for doin' what you did. I told you last week and it still holds true today; you're not alone, man."

Castiel breathed out in relief, letting the warm weight of Dean press close to his side. He hesitated for a bare moment, before leaning his head slightly onto Dean's shoulder.

"Thank you, Dean."

When the movie had ended, and Dean has thrown a blanket over Sam's snoring form, he put his jacket on and walked Castiel out to his car. The nighttime air was cool, dew already pooling on the leaves of Dean's bushes and settling on the top of Castiel's car. They smiled at each other, Castiel unlocking his doors. Before he could get in, however, Dean pulled him in for a tight hug.

"Have a good night, Cas. See you Monday," he gruffed out.

Castiel slowly returned the hug, wrapping his arms around the soft leather of Dean's jacket. It smelled good, like the steaks they'd eaten that night and an essence that was purely Dean. Castiel felt his hair stand on end, inhaling and feeling a sharp sting of _want_ curling in his stomach. It took him by surprise, how quickly the thought had come upon him, but it didn't scare him like it had in the past. It was welcomed, and new and safe.

Castiel couldn't remember the last time he'd felt safe.

When the hug ended all too soon, Dean leaned forward and poked the side of Castiel's face. "Nice peach fuzz, Cas."

Castiel laughed, unexpectedly, and it seemed to startle them both. He shook his head, smiling once more before getting into his car and driving away.

Dean watched the car go down the street until it turned out of sight before heading inside. His good mood lasted through kitchen clean-up and fixing the living room, all the way until he turned out the lights and hit the pillow. The night replayed itself over and over until he fell asleep.

The next morning, he was treated to Sam's version of breakfast (fruit, bagels and bran cereal? Dean didn't even _have_ bran cereal). The two ate in silence, Sam looking through the newspaper while Dean read the comic section.

"Y'know, if you think about it, Jon can't hear Garfield's thoughts. So if you pretend he's a normal cat and erase all the talk bubbles, Jon's a psycho. That's funny."

"I liked Castiel, Dean."

"That's funny, too, Samsquatch."

"He was very thoughtful. I wonder if he knew brownies were your favorite. And that hug last night? Man, that was a real bromance right there."

"You were _spying_ on me?"

"Yes. Yes, I was."

"Cas is just a coworker, you've worked with him, too."

"Never met the guy, though."

"So?"

"So, you've talked about him every other phone conversation we've had since he transferred here. Like, half a year ago."

"Well, yeah, the guy's a weirdo and he's- he's weird, and if you'd gone out drinkin' with us, you'd see how weird he is."

"So he's weird."

"Yeah."

Sam put the paper down, picked up his bagel and took a vicious bite. He chucked a piece of melon at Dean's face to get his attention, and stuck his finger out to point.

"You like him, Dean. You really do. And don't even lie to me, I saw how you were with Aaron and Lisa, and there is way more chemistry between you and Castiel than those two combined. Now I don't know about him, but you better be honest with yourself and figure this out. And when you do? Tell him. You can't hide behind your facade forever, Dean. Admit it."

"Listen, Sammy, it's none of your-"

"Admit it!"

"Ok, fine, geez! I like the guy, all right? I like him a lot."

"Then man up and let it happen."

"Fine, I will!"

Sam sat back, smiling at his victory, as Dean ate his cereal with grumbling effort. The act didn't stay long, and Dean was his normal jovial self when they made plans for the next movie night. When he finally kicked his brother out of the house, Dean was light-hearted. It felt good, really good, to admit to a new attraction. And it was Castiel. It was a friggin' crush. Dean, for all his 'no-chick-flick-moments' and bluster about friendship, had decided to let that flame inside grow bigger, and if there was even a chance that Castiel returned it, then it would be worth putting his heart on the line.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Time passed in a blur, and Castiel was pleased to see that he and Dean were forging a stronger friendship with each passing week. While very much opposites, they found that their strengths complimented the other's weaknesses. Dean showed Castiel all his favorite movies, the greasiest foods at The Roadhouse, little tricks to help remember his organization of evidence down in Cage ("See, when I gotta remember which case is which when it comes to, say, shopliftin'? I file it in the name of the store, and then the best characteristic of the guy pressin' charges. A for asshole, D for dick, H for hot stuff, you get it?")

Castiel did not. But regardless, he in turn taught Dean more intellectual types of reading, classical music, and how to be a better cook with delicious and healthy organic food. Sam approved, of course, and Dean had to admit spices did work when you didn't just dump them on top of the food. And if more often than not each week Dean "accidentally" burned dinner too much so that Castiel had to come over to cook for the both of them (except for using the toaster. Castiel never did get the hang of that), no one questioned it. Or if Castiel's car kept making a "funny noise" and he needed Dean to come over and check it out, yet it never seemed to do it when Dean drove him around town, it wasn't a big hassle at all.

And best of all were the nights in at Dean's place in the suburbs. Movies, dinner, game nights, even reading companionably in the living room were all little treasures Castiel kept close to himself. There were days when Dean and Sam, or just Dean, would visit Castiel's apartment for a real spread of fancy food or movies on the HD TV, but the neighbors always hated any kind of noise permeating the walls, and Castiel lived in the not-so-great part of town. If Dean were honest, Castiel's place just seemed too rigid and sterile to be considered a home. Maybe one day that'd change, but for the moment, his weekly visits to the Winchester home were more than welcomed.

One thing Dean secretly did love was Castiel "teaching" him how to dress a little more formally. He loved his flannels and leather and old cotton throw-ons, but when the technician got him into an actual tailor to try on a suit, that's when things got real nice and personal.

"It would be better if you had a nice pressed suit for whenever you're called into court, Dean. Some of your cases land you right in the middle as a witness, and you can't always send in a statement in lieu of your presence."

"Ah, these monkey suits are always so baggy, or they don't let me raise my arms up."

"That's why you go to a tailor, not a department store."

Dean was standing on the little footstool in front of the floor length mirror, eyeing the dress shirt critically while the tailor in question was pining excess folds of cloth around his legs. He snuck a glance at Castiel to see him perusing other types of shirts to go with ties. Dean stifled a grin when he noticed, not for the first time, that Castiel had yet again put his tie on backwards. At least he'd ditched the trenchcoat at the door, and wore just his shirt and slacks. Even he could admit it was too warm that day for the suit jacket.

"Ow! Hey, watch the goods, dude!" The tip of the hemming needle had poked Dean in the thigh.

"I'd advise you not to move so much, sir, else it may happen again." The tailor gave him a withering glance, and Dean blushed before turning fully back to the mirror. After a few more minutes, the tailor had his numbers and when back to get one more outfit for trying on. Dean stepped off the stool.

"Sheesh, it ain't natural to stand still for so long. All for pants."

Castiel chuckled, pulling out a tie and jacket combo the tailor had brought out that complimented the shirt Dean was wearing.

"Trust me, Dean, it will be worth it. Put this on."

Dean shrugged into the coat, impressed by how well it fit across his chest and tapered down on the waist. "Not bad, not bad." He gave himself of few poses in the mirror, turning to face Castiel. "So how do I look?"

"Very nice, Dean," Castiel smiled, reaching around his neck to put on the tie. He slid the fabric through the turned down collar of the shirt, and Dean felt heat rising from his neck at the touch. He stood perfectly still, eyes watching Castiel's face for every little movement.

Castiel squinted when he was focused on something, just the tiniest it of lip caught between his teeth. He gave the same about on concentration to knotting the tie as he did when watching a new movie or reading over witness depositions. Dean unconsciously started leaning forward, hands fidgeting at his sides. He was close enough he could just _smell_ the cologne Castiel was wearing... something woodsy and fresh that just made him want to close his eyes and inhale. Castiel finished the knot, patting the lapels of Dean's jacket with flourish.

"Cas?"

The man looked up, eyes wide and blue and searching, hands still on his chest, not moving away.

"Yes, Dean?"

They were so close, inches apart, and Dean wanted nothing more than to close the gap right there and just kiss him, see if there was anything there, anything to build on or explore or just revel in the natural warmth that always seemed to burn Dean up when it came to Castiel. He finally got his hands to move, and they came up to encircle the wrists at his collarbone.

"I, um... -I just- "

_Crash!_

The loud noise and resulting curse from just around the corner broke them apart, each hastily stepping back at the tailor returned with a second set of pants. Dean was part relieved, part frustrated that the man picked that time to come back. He darted a glance back at Castiel, surprised to see the downright anger in his eyes. What the hell was that about?

They finished shopping, and Dean was so pleased by his fancy new suit he insisted on wearing it back to the precinct for his night shift to show off.

"Hah, I'll show them who puts the 'cock' in 'peacock', then they can't make fun of me for wearin' flannel at last year's holiday party."

"Flannel? Oh, Dean."

The long-suffering sigh ended in a laugh, Dean having gotten used to Castiel "disapproving" and Castiel having gotten used to what the town would call "Dean-isms". They made it back to the precinct, only to have Capain Singer approach them with a grave face.

"Novak, I need you in my office pronto."

"Anything amiss, sir?"

"Just come with me, boy."

"Whoa, whoa, Bobby wasn't the big rush? Someone bust out of prison or somethin'?"

"Keep your mouth shut, ya idjit." Bobby whole demeanor was tense, and the look he shot at Dean was fierce and unmoving. Dean blinked, seeing the severity of the situation. If Bobby snapped at him like that, it wasn't good. And it seemed like it involved Castiel.

The man in question laid a hand on Dean's arm, forestalling any more outbursts.

"Perhaps I can visit for your dinner break, Dean, if there is time after I clock out."

"Yeah, sure, Cas. Whatever you say."

Bobby did a double take between the two of them. He couldn't recall the last time anyone made Dean back down, even agree to an alternative option when it came to keeping him out the loop, except for Bobby himself. Seems like Jo hadn't been kidding about these two being "odd as shit friends".

He jerked his head to his office, leading Castiel inside and firmly shutting the door to the rest of the pen

***

It had been a roller coaster day for Castiel as it was. First, his computer system kept rebooting whenever he tried entering the final process check for new entries, so all the evidence check-ins had to be filled out and filed by hand. Second, his lunch break was interrupted by a shopping trip with Dean, which while perfectly fine (fun, even), he could not stop thinking about those lips so close to his when he'd put on the tie, or the warm hands lightly gripping his wrists. That surge of _want_ had come back in full force, nearly stunning him with the intensity, and just as quickly was cut off when the tailor conveniently came back from the store rooms. And now, despite the dread that was coiling in his stomach about what he was sure the Captain would say to him, he looked forward to a nice, quiet dinner with Dean in the evening.

Bobby sighed, a heavy exhalation that did note bode well. He took his seat in his chair and motioned for Castiel to do the same.

"Just got a call from Turner back east. Says Morning Star's men were sent out this way a few days ago to find you, one of his meaner dogs, Azazel."

Castiel froze, the name striking a chord of deep unease inside him.

"How could that be possible?"

"One of their holdouts runs a chain of organic grocery stores, since they can make more money off that with the idea that people will pay more for healthy food. Seems when they processed last month's profits, the computer told them someone named 'Castiel' had made a purchase in Kansas. Ain't a lot of people with a name like that, son."

"I... I didn't realize-"

"Now look, boy, I don't want you running again from this. You got yourself a good life out here, good friends, and we'll protect you however we can. You run, you open yourself up to more trouble. You got to trust us, let us help you. They may already be in town, and we look after our own here, you understand?"

Every instinct was railing in Castiel to bolt, to pack up and keep moving until he reached the Pacific Ocean, and maybe even then swim until he hit Japan. He could only imagine terrible things, dangerous things that would infect this little town if he stayed. Azazel was cruel, and unrepentant when it came to doing Morning Star's dirty work. He'd gotten his corneas tattooed a permanent yellow, the better to scare his victims with when he tracked them. He'd even given Castiel a scare a time or two, when Castiel was looking over past depositions from victims and witnesses.

Castiel remained silent. It hurt, though. The idea of leaving Kansas was a rock in his stomach. The last year, despite the harsh living arrangements and long work hours and the constant worry and abject loneliness without his family, was still one he would treasure and hold onto, mainly because of...

"What about Dean?" The voice cut through his thoughts.

"What about him, sir?"

"If you're going to stay here... and you better... I think more people may need to know your situation. To be better prepared for it. Officer Winchester could provide a great service if he were allowed information about this situation."

"Oh, yes. Yes, perhaps you're right. I will inform him of the situation immediately." There was no need to tell Bobby that Dean had already known about Castiel's past for a while now.

"I bet you will, son. Now get back to work, and think long and hard about this. Don't go bolting in the middle of the night."

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

Castiel returned to the Cage, hands shaking as he continued his work. The hours seemed to creep by, but before the technician knew it, the clock was softly chiming eight o'clock, and he was off duty for the day. He went though his regime, locking up each section of the Cage, shutting down the computer system, filing away the hand-written paperwork until he could log it in. He gathered his coat, wallet and keys and turned out the lights before making his slow ascent up the stairs.

He wandered, eyes fixed on the floor before each step, but when he passed the pen he felt something flit across his senses like a wave. He looked up, and there was Dean, dressed in his patrol uniform and hading a cup of coffee to Jo behind her cubicle. He gave her a jaunty wave before turning, and their eyes met over the seas of stations. Dean's face broke into a wide grin.

"Oh, look who decided to join the rest of humanity! Ready to grab some chow, Novak?"

Castiel stared, tilting his head just slightly to the side. He kept his gaze locked on Dean's as the man approached him. He laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder, deftly spinning him about and marching him across the hall to the exit doors. 

***

The night was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the trees, but every small sound kept Castiel rigid. He would swear he could feel someone watching him, but tried valiantly to chalk it up to paranoia over his recent news.

"Don't care what went on in there, man, I need food fast or I'm likely to pass out!"

Castiel went along, grateful to follow Dean's lead, but still kept his silence. His tongue felt like a weighted rock, the words and fears colliding inside but refusing to break the surface and rest on Dean's shoulders. As much as Castiel wanted to talk to him, to confide and ask for help, he just didn't know if he could bring himself to involve the man anymore than he'd foolishly done already.

"C'mon, let's hit the burger place a block over. Should be in and out before my hour's up."

Dean slung an arm around Castiel's shoulders, walking amiably down the street. Castiel wasn't fooled though; the almost giddy aloofness Dean was exhibiting was way out of the normal for him. He was dying to know what had happened in Captain Singer's office, but he wouldn't push for information. It was a comforting thought, knowing Dean would respect that, but Castiel knew he needed to say something. He turned his head, mesmerized by the puff of Dean's breath in the chilly air.

"Dean, I do need to talk to you about the Captain. It's very important."

Dean slowly nodded, keeping them moving at their easy pace.

"No problem, Cas. Let's talk after we eat though, ok? That wasn't for show, I really am hungry enough to eat an entire cow." He squeezed Castiel's bicep, smiling a toothy grin. Castiel returned it shakily but earnestly, and when they made it to Beauregard's Burger Bureaucracy (you could vote on which toppings you wanted, but had to pay a tax for each one), the feeling of eyes on him had passed. They ate comfortably, talking about nothing specific until it was time go head back.

"Let's talk as we walk, Dean. The fewer ears, the better."

Dean nodded, opening the door for Castiel and handing him his trenchcoat. The damnable feeling of being spied on returned, and Castiel gave himself a covert look around. Nothing jumped out of the ordinary. They walked through the nearly empty parking lot, bumping shoulders as Castiel worked up a plan of what to say and how to say it. He was angling his head, worrisome blue meeting inviting green, when the harsh growl of an engine revving brought them both up short. They turned, and caught the barest glimpse of headlights before a car from the back of the parking lot slammed on the gas and raced towards them.

Castiel froze, eyes fixed on the oncoming New York City license plate, before he was shoved from the side and went down hard over the sidewalk and into the gutter. Tires screeched, rubber burning the asphalt and stinging Castiel's eyes. The roar of the car swept past them, too close, before continuing to drive away. A body was plastered over Castiel, hand covering his head protectively until their momentum stopped, and Castiel looked up to see an enraged Dean leaping to his feet and drawing his gun. Without a word he aimed and fired, striking the back tire of the car with a loud _pop_. The car skidded, the driver trying to compensate before pulling too fast and swerving straight into a tree across the road. Castiel began to rise to his knees, but a steely hand landed gently on his head.

"Stay down, Cas." The voice above him was deadly, guttural low and terrifying in its intensity. Dean took off, running towards the car and keeping his gun trained on the driver's side. He circled, eyes snapping, and he yanked the car door open. A body lunged, aiming a long serrated knife right at Dean's chest. He jerked back, hand branching out to grip the wrist holding the knife and giving a hard twist to the side. Dean could feel bones moving beneath the skin and tendons popping at the sudden jerk, and the man fell from the car to his knees, knife skittering. He kicked out, catching Dean in the shin and knocking him off balance, the hand falling away from the man's wrist.

The man leaped to his feet, turning and running straight at Castiel's kneeling form. Dean followed, shouting a warning to Castiel before the assailant reached him. Castiel rose, advancing to meet the killer head on, and just as fists were arcing to meet Castiel face he ducked to catch him under his sternum. Using his own momentum, he barreled through, tossing man over him and coming up into a roundabout kick that sent the man sprawling. Dean rushed past, gliding to his knees and pressing one hard into the man's back. Quickly he pulled out his cuffs, locking the man into position, before calling in a 10-24 for backup. A harsh chuckle was his copy as the man beneath him turned his face to stare at Castiel. Dean recoiled, the yellow of the man's eyes burning in the night.

"Azazel..." Castiel breathed, frozen on the spot as he stared at Lucifer's number two man and confidant.

"Your time will come soon, Novak. You think you're safe but we will find you again, and we will make you suffer. Clock's ticking!"

He began to laugh, a sick and gleeful sound that scraped across Castiel's senses. In a blaze of fury he reached down and punched Azazel in the jaw, hearing a satisfying crack and rendering his attacker unconscious.

"Sonnuvabitch, Cas, back off! We can't do that, we already got him in custody!" Dean reached out instinctively, catching Castiel's arm and pulling him back. The technician nearly fought him, body tense and wired to fight, nerves flayed by fear and anger and relief that Dean had not been gutted by Azazel's wicked knife. Castiel had seen the aftermath of such violence, and when Azazel had lunged from the car, Castiel could barely breath.

Dean guided him to his feet, checking him over for injuries, and Castiel stood limp in his grasp. A flash of neon blue and red rounded the corner as one of Precinct 139's finest arrived on the scene. A couple more of Dean's fellow officers came running from behind the car, brandishing flashlights and shouting code to confirm Dean was unharmed and in control of the attacker.

Dean motioned for one of them, a man named Harry, to get the knife on the ground, and the cop pulled out a bag and gloves. The other, Ed, partnered Dean in hauling Azazel to his feet and shoving him none too gently into the back of the squad car. He turned to face the assisting officer.

"Call it in to Bobby, and let him know the dude somehow fractured his jaw. Don't let any of this get out until we have more information, go it?"

Ed nodded, climbing into the driver's side and taking off. Dean wiped a hand across his brow, turning to the second officer.

"Got that knife, Harry?"

"No, sir, Mr. Novak said he was taking it back to the precinct for filing."

"What? Shit, no, he needs to- god _damn_ it!"

Sure enough, when Dean turned to where he'd left the technician, Castiel and the knife were gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, who gets a cameo in this chapter!

It had only been minutes, but to Dean it felt longer. He ran the block to the precinct, absentmindedly thinking how stupid Azazel must have been to try and strike at Castiel so close to home. He burst through the doors, heading directly to the stairs and barreling his way down to the Cage.

"Cas? Cas! Are you down here, man? Answer me!"

Castiel's trenchcoat lay puddled on the floor by the check-in desk, Azazel's knife tossed haphazardly by the keyboard. A shuffling sound from the back of the locker echoed off the walls, and Dean made his way into down the halls to find Castiel digging through an unmarked box. Several firearms were littering the floor, and Castiel was adding to the pile with each gun he withdrew.

"Cas! Cas, what was that back there? Why did you grab the knife and run?"

Castiel remained silent, head ducking further into the box. Dean stalked up, pulling Castiel back by the collar of his suit jacket while simultaneously kicking the box out of Castiel's reach. He spun the man around, immediately locking his hands around flailing wrists. Castiel's right hand held a small pistol, and his eyes were wide and cloudy.

"What the fuck, Cas?!"

Castiel shook his head, struggling in vain to get out of Dean's grip. They scuffled, Dean twisting Castiel's arm until he dropped the gun, but he still fought back and was damn near _growling_ deep in his throat. Dean realized with a start that Castiel didn't seem to know who the cop was, so caught up in whatever was going through his mind that he couldn't register what was right in front of him. He reared back, and Dean barely avoided the headbutt the technician aimed at his temple. Dean yanked Castiel's arms down, plastering them to the technician's sides before raising his own and gripping the man hard on the biceps.

 _"Novak!"_ he barked, shaking Castiel hard, making him gasp and lock eyes with the furious cop. He tensed, muscles bunching up, and he raised his hands to grab onto Dean's arms as he became aware of his surroundings.

"... Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me. Just calm down, Cas, calm down."

""I-I do not know w-what happened, I needed to get the gun and get ready, don't you see I had to get ready- " His voice caught on the words, and he swallowed harshly, throat clicking in pain.

"You gotta relax, focus on me and talk to me, one step at a time. Go through it like one of your organization lists, y'know, like the one you told me about how you lock up each night." Dean inhaled deeply, encouraging Castiel to match his pace. "Now, what happened back there? Why did you leave?"

Castiel drew a shuddering breath, eyes darting side to side as he racked his brain for rationality.

"I needed to get the knife here to file for the inevitable court trial. It is a solid piece of evidence to put away Azazel for good. And then when I arrived I realized that news of this will reach Lucifer, and that there will be retaliation for it. So I needed to be ready for it, be armed for the next attack. I have a stockpile of weapons from so many cases, I just needed to find the right one, I-" Castiel broke off, mind racing and thoughts colliding into each other until his anxiety began to climb.

Dean tightened his hold, angling his head to catch Castiel's eyes and bring him back to the present.

"I get it, Cas, I get it. Being prepared, being safe, I know what you think you need, but _damn_ it! You cannot just leave a crime scene like that, what if there were more of those guys hiding out there? Geez, you could've been shot or taken or somethin'!"

"There were more... there had to be. Lucifer never sends one man to do a job, there are more out there. It's like a hydra - cut off one head, two more grow in its place." He shook his head, fear clouding his eyes again. "I'm not safe, Dean, no one is as long as they know I'm alive."

"We can protect you! All of us, we can help you if you just let us, Cas! Please don't do somethin' so stupid that we can't come back it."

Castiel was still shaking his head, breathing high and erratic and limbs trembling in Dean's grip as he began to pull away again in earnest. In desperation, Dean did the first thing he could think of, and leaned in to press his lips against Castiel's.

There was no passion, no desire or anything close to romantic affection in the act, but the firm and warm pressure of Dean's lips was enough to ground Castiel, bringing him back from that dark place, centering him until he was able to close his eyes and just settle. He breathed out, shoulders lowering and hands coming to rest limply at his sides.

Dean pulled away gently, exhaling a soft breath and feeling his cheeks turn pink, but he focused on the task at hand and placed a hand atop Castiel's forehead.

"Let me help you, Cas. It's just me, it's Dean."

Castiel opened his eyes, blue and clear and glittering in the harsh fluorescent lighting. They both took a moment, controlling their breathing and just standing there in the safety of each other's presence, barely touching but promising support in what was there.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Let's go talk to Captain Singer. I should like to get everything out in the open. It may also behoove us to have Jo and Garth join in as well, once we know what we're doing. I... I would like their support."

"You got it, Cas. We got this. We'll handle it."

The moment was over, Castiel nodding to himself before efficiently putting the firearms back in the box, save for the small pistol. He quietly tucked it and Azazel's knife (tagged and bagged) into the desk drawer of the check-in counter, while Dean said nothing. Together they maneuvered the box back up onto the shelf, and Dean followed the technician out of the Cage. Castiel hit the main lights, the solitary safety light turning on automatically, and it's glow illuminated the check-in desk and Castiel's discarded trenchcoat on the floor. Dean paused at the doorway.

"Hey, Cas? Do you need your coat?"

Castiel turned, staring at the crumpled heap before passing the doorway.

"No, I believe it's a bit too warm for it right now."

*** 

By some unspoken agreement, they didn't talk the next day. Dean left Castiel alone to sort out whatever was going on, trusting he'd be let in when the time was right. For his part, Castiel was mapping out every possible strategy he could think of with Captain Singer, going over old case files and paperwork to figure out what kind of plan Lucifer might enact to continue his revenge. Dean avoided going down to the Cage to visit the technician, and Castiel did not go over for movie night that night, but in the parking lot after work their eyes met, and Dean gave a small smile. Castiel nodded in acknowledgement, and Dean did the same, silently promising to support him however he could.

That night, Dean called Sam and told him what had happened.

"Well, we may be in for some trouble, if Castiel did punch the guy in the jaw."

"Why is that, Sammy?"

"Sam, you jerk. Anyway, if he touched him under protective custody, Azazel's lawyer could say it was police brutality."

"Cas isn't a cop anymore, Sam, he was a victim in that! He still is! And the guy deserved it, he tried to run him over and shank me with a knife. It was self-defense."

"You let me handle it, Dean, I've got some idea of what to do. Morning Star has a demon of a defense team, headed by a shark named Crowley. I've seen him work, and I think I can plan around it to keep our prosecution stable."

"All right. You keep me up to date on it, Sam, I'm countin' on you."

"Got your back, Dean. Say hi to Castiel for me."

 _If only I could myself,_ Dean thought bitterly.

On the following day, an envelope was delivered to Dean with no return address. He opened it, only to see a note written in cut-out blocky magazine letters.

' **You're next, Winchester. Should have stayed out of the way. You and Novak are dead.** '

His blood ran cold. Castiel was right; someone _had_ been watching them when Azazel attacked. He reached under his desk for the plastic bag he'd brought his breakfast to work in, and slid the note inside for safekeeping. He left the pen and ran to Bobby's office, only to see the man in question wasn't there. Dean snagged Jo as the blonde was passing by.

"Hey Jo, do you know where Bobby went?"

"Yeah, he's downtown with Castiel for some paperwork they needed. Said not to bother him, he'd be out for the next few hours."

"Awesome. Thanks, Jo."

Dean nodded, heading down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder at Jo's retreating form, and when she rounded out of sight he double backed and snuck into the office, quietly locking the door and booting up Bobby's computer. It took a while, but eventually through a hard drive search he found a file on Castiel, with all his old information from New York still on it. Listed at the top was his old police station contact, and the number of his previous Captain. Dean grinned, finally able to do something.

After the fourth ring, the receiver clicked, and a harsh female voice blared over the speaker.

_"Whaddaya want?"_

"Uh, hey. Yeah, um, I'd like to speak to Captain Turner, please."

_"Who da fuck issis?"_

"What?"

_"I'm askin' ya who da fuck you is?"_

"This is Officer Dean Winchester of the Lawrence KS Police Department, badge number 9132005, who the hell are _you_?"

_"Officer Lita Dreckman of NYC Precinct 384, badge number 7281982, fillin' in fer Rufus Turner, now whadda fuck is you doin' callin' me?"_

"I'm callin' for information about Castiel Milton, former police officer at your station, ma'am. He had a case where he was targeted for murder, and tryin' to keep it so he stays alive."

There was a silence, long and tense, before the voice on the line returned considerably lighter.

_"Ohh yeah, da guy wid da trenchcoat, yeah? Yeah, real good lookin' guy, nice ass and blue eyes. Real shame ta see him go, didn't get da chance to tap dat like Morse code. So who are you, his new fling?"_

"His friend, and he was attacked two days ago by some douche named Azazel. We got him locked up but I need to know anything you can tell me about Lucifer Morning Star."

_"You got the time for it, sir? 'Cause it ain't pretty."_

Dean's smile was grim as he sat down at the desk. "All yours."

 _"Da guy's a dick, Winchester, I'd stay off his shit list if ya knew what was good for ya. Azazel's his favorite dog, and since you put him away, you're prolly gonna be da next one he'll go after."_ A series of clicking noises echoed on the line, and when Dreckman returned, her voice was grim. Dean looked down at the note in the plastic bag, willing his breathing to stay normal.

_"We keep tabs on everyone of Lucifer's goons what makes a move out here. Da minute somethin' goes down, we go in to grab 'em and bring 'em in. Just gotta catch 'em in da act. Says here Morning Star sent his number two out somewheres and he ain't back yet. I'd bet my left tit he's headin' out dere to finish what Azazel didn't."_

"What's his name?"

_"Dick by da name of Alastair. Real nasty, kamikaze kinda guy. Would die inna heartbeat for Lucifer, seen him take a bullet or three fer da guy. You see dis guy, you take him down, Winchester. Ain't playing games with dis one, he'll hurt you and everyone you care about."_

"Thanks, Dreckman. I'll keep you posted."

_"Hey," the voice was calmer, almost sincere. "You take care of 'im, alright? Milton- well, I guess Novak now- he was a good cop and a nice guy. You don't find men like him no more. Honest and true and all dat crap."_

"Don't I know it. I will. Seeya."

Dean sighed, setting the note in Bobby's side drawer and closing out the computer. He returned to his own desk, finishing out the day's work and keeping on eye on the hallway for Bobby and Castiel's return. When they finally did, Dean immediately told Bobby what had happened, and the man frowned.

"This is bad, kid. You got targeted. Bad enough I got to send enforcement to Castiel's place, now I got to fix you up, too?"

"Hey, I don't need a bodyguard, Bobby. You focus on keeping Cas safe. I just need to know what the hell we plan on doing about all of this."

"Still figuring that out, son. Now get your ass home, you've been here since we opened today."

"Can do," the officer said with a jaunty salute.

***

The adrenaline from the death threat still sang in Dean's blood as he drove home, drumming his fingers on the Impala's steering wheel. One shower and a half-assed dinner later, he was finally able to relax, putting on a DVD of _Dr. Sexy_ to distract himself. He was halfway in when a shuffling sound outside his front door alerted him to a presence. Dean eyed the door, turning up the volume on the TV as he slid from the couch to the floor and crept up along the wall by the window. He reached behind his bookcase, grabbing the old baseball bat he kept there for that exact reason, and slowly approached the door.

He waited, and when he heard the soft but audible sigh he yanked the door open and raised the bat high.

A pair of blue eyes cut from the sky stared at him in shock, and the dark-haired man they were attached to rocked back off of the step. Dean lashed out instinctively, catching the man and pulling him inside the house.

" _Damn it_ , Cas, I could've bashed your face in! Why didn't you knock or ring the damn bell?!"

"I- I'm sorry, Dean, I wasn't sure I'd be welcomed here. I didn't know where else to go. I cannot go back to my apartment, and I refuse to let another office be put in the line of danger for me. I haven't slept well in days and I just-" he broke off, falling silent and dropping his gaze to the floor.

Dean huffed out in agitation, locking the door and putting the bat back behind the bookcase. He dragged a hand through his hair and gazed worriedly at the technician.

"You're always welcome here, Cas, you know that."

Castiel remained quiet, still staring at his shoes.

Dean closed his eyes and breathed, relief settling over his shoulders like a blanket. He grabbed Castiel's shoulders and gently shoved him towards the couch. "I'll go make us some tea. Grab a seat and prepare for _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ "

They watched two episodes before the weariness crept in, coloring their words and dragging their limbs down. Dean yawned, sleep heavy in his eyes. "Considering the circumstances, you should probably stay here."

Castiel sat him, fighting fatigue. "Are you sure?"

"'Course I am, I got a bat."

He grinned cheekily, and Castiel chuckled ever so slightly.

"Indeed you do. Thank you, Dean."

"Anytime, Cas."

Castiel watched as Dean's eyes closed, sleep taking him over quickly. His face was relaxed, and Castiel swallowed tightly against the emotion clogging his throat. He reached out to lightly grasp Dean's hand, feeling the solid weight and warm against his own palm.

Hours later, the night found them curled loosely on the couch under a blanket, Castiel's head having slid onto Dean's shoulder, and the _Dr. Sexy_ main menu on repeat.

*** 

The next day seemed almost normal. Dean drove them to work, telling Castiel in no uncertain terms to come back to the house that night for dinner and a movie if he wanted his car back. They bickered over music choice, and Castiel even allowed himself to eat one doughnut from the dozen Dean picked up.

They parted ways at the stairs, Castiel offering his first real smile since the attack.

"Dean. I should like to talk you tonight about what Captain Singer and I have discussed."

Dean nodded, his own discussion with Dreckman in New York still fresh. "Yeah, that'd be good. Seeya at quittin' time then, Cas."

Dean made his way back to Bobby's office, filling his mug with luke-warm coffee at the break room. He shrugged off his jacket and hung up his gun holster on the coat rack before settling down at the computer. A note was left for him on the keyboard.

**I know what you've been doing, boy. You're smart but you left the browser history open. Don't keep it from Novak for long. I'll be back soon ~Bobby**

Dean smiled into his coffee and checked his mail, pleased to find additional information from Officer Dreckman about Lucifer's current holdings and patterns. With any luck, they could reach Kansas, therefore getting them a lead on how to find him, or lure him out of hiding.

Jo came in, dropping off a few file folders and updating Dean on the day's assignments while he worked on Morning Star's current acquisition of the old warehouses at the edge of town. He was so engrossed in the work he didn't see the disheveled man enter the office and approach the desk.

"Excuse me, are you Captain Singer?"

Dean looked up. A terrified man with deep-set eyes and a long nose stood before him, nervously twisting his hands.

"No, I'm Officer Winchester, Captain Singer's associate. How can I help you, sir?"

"I, um... I saw what happened at the burger place," he swallowed. "A few nights ago. I was outside, trying to get my car started, and I saw the man try to drive over your friend. There were two other men there, watching from the side. One of them called the other 'Alastair'. I think he may have something to do with all this."

Dean stood, eyes widening. "Yes, yes of course, thank you for coming in. I can take your deposition, sir, if you'll just please take a seat. Jo, if you'll excuse us, please." The blonde officer nodded and left the room, closing the door. Dean gestured to the chair in front, and bent down to the bottom drawer of the desk, searching for a memo pad and pen. "Just a moment while I get somethin' to write with." He stood, setting the memo pad down and leaning over the desk to write. "Now, for starters, what did this man addressed as Alastair look like."

"Oh, I'd say exactly like me." 

Dean whipped his head up, only to see his coffee mug come smashing into the side of his face.

***

The alarms went off, red lights glaring amidst the fluorescent white of the Cage. Castiel looked up at them, nerves screaming, and immediately hit the lockdown button on the Cage to secure it. He dug through his trenchcoat on his desk chair for the small pistol he had stashed there, and headed up the stairs to see what was going on.

Captain Singer saw him approach from around the holding pens, and reached out to grab his shoulder.

"Get out, Novak, head to the main entrance. Get as many people to go as you can, we're on Level 3 lockdown."

"What happened?"

Bobby's face was grim, a speck of fear brightening his eyes.

"One of Morning Star's hitmen has got Dean in my office. He has a gun, and he- _Novak! Get back here!_ "

Castiel ran. He dashed past evacuating personnel and made a beeline for the captain's office. People were shouting his name, to get back, to duck, but he ignored it all in favor of getting to Dean.

Castiel jerked to a stop when he rounded the corner. Jo was sitting down just outside the office, hands over her head, and Garth lay unconscious next to her. He knelt silently, using hand gestures and lip reading to ask her condition. She replied that she was ok, that she'd heard Dean cry out and tried to run back in. Garth had shoved her out of the way when Alastair attempted to pistol whip her with Dean's gun. He was still in there, with Dean. Castiel nodded, rising to his feet and craning his head just barely around the corner.

A whirlwind of images assaulted him; papers strewn everywhere, an overturned chair, Dean's favorite mug shattered on the floor. A heavily breathing Alastair stood right in the center of the room, holding Dean's holster in one hand and Dean's own gun in the other. The officer himself was crouched down by the desk, back to the wall, blood flowing from his temple and his knuckles bruised. 

Castiel moved in with his gun aimed and ready, damn shoes squeaking on the tile, when Dean turned. "Cas, get out!" He was drowned out by the rapport of a gunshot. Alastair had aimed Dean's gun at the wall near Castiel's head, splintering the plaster. _"Don't move!"_ he shouted, eyes bugged.

Castiel froze, gun still trained on Alastair. "Put the gun down, Alastair. There is no way out of this building except in the back of a police car."

"Or a body bag," Dean gritted.

Alastair chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Oh really? You think I care about that? Oh no, sweet cheeks, I knew this was a one-way when I signed up. All I need to do is put one tiny little hole in Winchester's brain, and I'm good to go." He aimed the muzzle of the gun at Dean's forehead. Dean stilled, eyes locked on Castiel, tension ripping through him.

"Not going to happen." Not to Dean. Castiel gripped his gun tighter, cocking the hammer back. He kept his eyes on Alastair, but felt the heat of Dean's gaze in his peripheral. "Step away from him."

Alastair grinned wider. "And why the HELL would I do that? Shooting him takes care of one more of Lucifer's problems, and you get to suffer the loss yourself before we come for you next! What could you possibly say that would stop me from ending his pathetic, useless life?"

After an eternal few seconds, Castiel narrowed his eyes and took a breath. "Because I as a good as killed Michael myself." Alastair's smile froze, eyes widening.

"Because I was the one who registered the evidence in Michael's name, I was the one who testified in court to bring him down, and I was the one who put the paperwork through to get him put in the prison where he was murdered. Lucifer never knew that not only did his own cousin stand by when his family was arrested, but that he may as well of put the seal on the death warrant himself. So if anyone deserves your so-called brand of vengeance it would be me. _Put the gun down_."

As Castiel spoke each damning sentence, Alastair's face steadily grew dark, until his eyes were fire and he seethed between his teeth. His hands shook and he spat out viciously, "Ohh, I'll put _you_ down, you bastard!" He turned away from Dean, bringing the gun up to aim directly at Castiel.

"No!" Dean jerked forward, hand outstretched towards the technician.

Two fingers pressed on triggers, two shots rang out, and two bodies fell to the floor.

...

...

...

_"CAS!!"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Dean was underwater. That had to be the reason why everyone was blurry. The sound of people talking to him were warbled and muted, words not making sense and questions being asked he couldn't answer. He remembered being put into an ambulance and taken to Lawrence General, and a woman stitching up his forehead and bandaging his knuckles. Another one had checked his eyes and lungs, satisfied nothing was amiss. He remembered telling someone to call Sam, to have him come over with a fresh shirt. _Why do I need a fresh shirt?_ He registered Bobby was there, guiding him to a chair to sit down.

"I'll be right back, son, just going to get us some coffee. Jo and Garth should be here soon, they're getting patched up in the nurse's station. You stay here, when I get back we need to fill out the depositions."

_What depositions, what happened?_

Dean remained in his chair, staring at the snow white linen around his hand, nodding when the nurses approached him and spoke with a questioning lilt in their voices. The clock told Dean he'd been there for almost two hours, but he couldn't remember why he was there at all. Sam arrived shortly after, setting a hand gently on his shoulder and pressing a fresh shirt into his grip. He stared down at it, and then at the shirt he wore, and seeing Castiel's blood made the memories come flooding back in a rush. He leapt to his feet.

"Sam! Sam, he was shot, he- Alastair was there, and he shot Cas with my gun, and he's- Sam, he's-"

"Dean! Calm down, look at me. Look at me, Dean."

Sam stood next to him, bringing his hands tight on Dean's shoulders.

"Calm down. I just spoke with Dr. Mosely, she said that he's in surgery now. The bullet missed the heart and passed clean through the top of the lung. They said it can be fixed but he lost a lot of blood and the recovery time will be a while. He's going to be OK, Dean." Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, gripping it tight. "He will be OK. Just breath, Dean, stay with me here."

Dean sat back down, the tension and adrenaline leaving him in a rush. Cas... he was gonna be OK. _Not dead._ Dean rubbed a hand over his face. _Not dead._ If Sam was saying it, it had to be true. Everything is going as should, nothing worse has happened. His eyes suddenly felt very heavy. He swallowed the tight knot in his throat and raised his eyes to his brother.

"How did he survive that? It was nearly point blank."

"The doctor said it was Cas' own shot that saved his life. If he hadn't pulled the trigger first, the bullet wouldn't have hit Alastair's hand and Cas would've been hit in the heart." Sam shook his head in wonder. "I didn't even know Cas could shoot a gun!"

"The idjit's been practicing at the shooting range since he transferred, even though he never leaves the precinct on the job." Bobby had returned, pressing a cup of coffee into Dean's free hand. "Said it was better to be safe than sorry, what with the scum we bring in. Seems he was right.

"Can't say I'm sorry to see Alastair laid low by a shot like that. Went straight through his hand and back in through the shoulder." He sipped his own coffee. "I hope he damn well loses it."

They sat together, silent but comforting, as the clock ticked on. After a time Jo and Garth appeared, Grath's head wrapped and a bag of ice applied to it. Ellen arrived shortly after, shooting question after question at her daughter and thanking Garth many times over for his noble act. They each offered comfort, as much good as it could do, and all sat and waited. Finally, _finally_ , after the fourth hour, a nurse emerged from the operating room and removed her face mask. She smiled wearily, and approached the group.

"Mr. Novak's group?"

Dean shot to his feet, eyes snapping in anger and fear.

"How is he? Is he alive? When can I see him?"

"He's fine, sir, he's out of surgery and in the recovery rooms. We'll need to keep him here for a few days, but right now we're focusing on him waking up. It may take a while. We can let you in a few at a time to see him, but no more than that."

Dean nodded, but couldn't bring himself to move his feet. Sam stepped forward in his place.

"If I may, ma'am, I'd like to see him please."

The nurse nodded and escorted Sam and Bobby down the hall. Ellen appeared beside Dean and gently grasped his arm.

"Dean, honey, I'm going to take Jo and Garth home. We'll be back to visit soon, once he wakes up. You keep me posted on this, ok?"

Dean turned his eyes to her, nodding in compliance, and accepted the hug she tenderly gave him. He gave his won to Jo and even Garth, whispering _thank you_ into Garth's ear, and waved as they exited the hospital doors.

His feet moved him to the restroom, where he changed out of the bloodstained shirt and into the one Sam had brought. He looked around the little room, finding a plastic medical bag marked bio hazard and stuffing the shirt inside. He returned to the waiting room just as Sam and Bobby came out.

"Dean? You can go in now, you're the last one for the day. I'm going to go with Bobby back to the station and start filling out paperwork. This is a big case now, if anyone wants to talk to you or try to get you to answer question, say I'm your lawyer and you won't speak until I'm present."

"Thanks, Sammy. Bobby. I'll... I'll be there soon."

Sam smiled sadly, bringing Dean in for a tight hug. Bobby clasped his hand and said in no uncertain terms to be safe and not come back to work until he was ready.

"And you keep in touch at all times, boy. I got a handful of guys stationed here until Novak is released, and don't think I won't stick a few on you if you try anything stupid."

He took his leave, giving Sam and Dean one more moment alone.

"While we were in there, Castiel woke up briefly before going back under. The doctor said its not uncommon for patients to go unconscious so soon after waking from anesthesia, and he may be able to hear you if you talk to him."

"Oh, I have some words for him, the jackass," Dean said gruffly, eyes downcast.

Sammy chuckled, turning to walk down the hall. Dean stared hard at the floor, eyes burning but refusing to blink. The nurse returned to take him in, and he followed her down to the hall and into Castiel's room.

***

The low beeping of machines and soft lighting made the room seem almost cozy, a safe and warm place for a patient to wake up in. There was a quilted bedspread, a low rolling table with water and cups, and notification buttons within easy reach of a patient's fingers.

Dean sat slowly into the chair beside the bed, resting an arm on the mattress and taking the current occupant's fingers in his own. Castiel was pale, hair mussed and chest wrapped tightly in bandages. An oxygen mask was over his face, and an IV dripped steadily into his arm. He seemed so small in the hospital gown and large bed, no longer hindered by layers of business wear. His skin was cool, limp in Dean's grasp, with the barest sliver of dried blood still in his nail beds. Dean tucked the technician's hand firmly within his, covering them from sight.

"I am so mad at you, Cas. No, not mad, I'm friggin' _furious_. You were so stupid, so _stupid_ to go in there alone and do that. You knew he was crazy, you knew this was a heavy situation, and you had to go and be a hero."

The familiar anger was rising up, as well as a mixture of fear and shame.

"How could you do that, man? It wasn't worth it. _I'm_ not worth it, not worth taking a bullet for. I swear, when you wake up I am gonna-"

Dean bit back the words, jaw tremoring and teeth clacking minutely from the strain. He loosened his grip, lacing his fingers through Castiel's and bringing the technician's hand to his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut against the rough skin of the back of Castiel's hand.

"Cas... I really need you to wake up soon, ok buddy? We can talk about it together, over pizza and beer and some dumb movie on the tube, but right now I need you to wake up. I need you to be ok, Cas. 'Cause we ain't done yet, man, we got a lot of crap to deal with now, we gotta take this sonnuvabitch Lucifer down for good, and I can't do that without you. I need you."

The machines beeped steadily on, the soft sounds of Castiel's breathing in tune with the rise and fall of his chest.

"Just please, Cas... wake up soon. I'm sorry... so sorry... I need you to wake up, Cas. I need to tell you something very important. Dammit, Cas, wake up..."

His litany died out slowly, becoming murmurs on his lips and prayers in his head. It rang over and over, long after the nurse had come to collect him, long after he'd driven himself home and parked next to Castiel's car, and long after he'd showered and gone to bed.

His phone rang early the next morning, Sam's name on the caller ID. Dean was awake and answering before it chimed twice.

"Sammy? Sam, what's up, what's happened?"

_"He's awake, Dean, Dr. Mosely just called and said he woke up not too long ago. Go on over, you have permission to see him."_

A wave of relief consumed Dean, and had he not already been in bed he would have fallen to his knees

"On my way, there in twenty. Did he say anything? Anything at all?"

 _"Yeah, right when he woke up..."_ Sam's voice softened, but held a world of depth and meaning in it. _"He said your name, Dean."_

He hung up the phone, flew out the door and arrived there in ten.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/
> 
> Double length chapter to make up for the previous short one.

Dean was the first one there, the visiting hours having just begun, and he thanked whoever was listening that he didn't have to face a crowd. It was going to be hell enough when he went into work that day to start the case, and he just needed peace of mind first before he went full scale crazy on Lucifer's ass. The same nurse from yesterday was there again, smiling and ushering Dean into Castiel's room.

The man himself was propped up against pillows, eyes half-lidded and watching a bird swoop by outside his window. He turned his head at their entrance, and the nurse graciously left to give them time alone. Dean's throat felt dry, and he coughed into his fist to clear it. When he looked up, eyes of murky blue where fixated on him, a mouth slightly turned up at the corners, and a drug-slurred voice spoke.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas. How are you?"

"I woke up."

"Yeah, you did. 'Bout time, too, we were all on edge there."

"The doctor said... I had one of... the fastest turnarounds... in hospital history." He shifted, stifling a groan as his torso moved to accommodate his labored breathing. "I should be... still asleep... but I woke up."

Dean smiled a shaky grin. "Yeah, well, good thing you did, or I was gonna have to kick your ass."

"I do not doubt that." 

"Well, when you get better, we got work to do, man. We're gonna talk, long and hard, about everything. No more surprises, we got Azazel and Alastair and you can bet that Morning Star douche isn't gonna let that slide. When you get outta here, we're making a game plan, capiche?"

"Yes, I capiche." Castiel began to drift, eyes unfocusing as sleep tugged at his brain. "Sorry, Dean, I can't seem to stay awake any longer."

A gentle hand carded through Castiel's hair, and Dean leaned in closer to his face.

"You sleep, Cas. Get better and get out of here. We can fix this, man, don't worry."

"It's not broken, Dean." Castiel's eyes closed, his breathing relaxing into sleep, and Dean stayed for a moment more before leaving.

He made calls to Bobby, Ellen, Jo and Garth, ending with Sam, whom he told to meet him at the station.

"Let's get the ball rollin' on this, Sammy. I want to counter any and all crap that comes from Tweedledick and Tweedledumbass' lawyer."

_"Crowley's already working on it, I hear. It's going to be rough, but Alastair's screw up isn't doing them any favors. Cas not being a cop won't fly on that one, as it was self defense and violent threats on you, Dean. He's also got assault and battery due to Garth, so we're in good standing. We just need proof that Lucifer ordered it, or else he'd say that both those guys did it on their own, and he'd cut them off."_

"Figures. Throw 'em under the bus before you get yourself caught."

_"Exactly. I think we're on to something good here, Dean. We just need to be careful. Are you still are the hospital?"_

"Leavin' now, be there after I grab some chow. Cas was awake when I got here, we talked, he went back to sleep. You can visit whenever, he should be out of here in a few days or so."

_"What did you talk about?"_

"None of your beeswax, Sammy."

_"You were the only thing he asked for when he woke up."_

"Shut up, Sam."

_"You didn't say anything about it, did you?"_

"I said shut it, bitch."

A long suffering sigh echoed on the line. _"Jerk."_

Dean hung up.

He arrived at the precinct an hour later, lunch bag in hand and questions on his lips. For the greater part of the week, he and Sam conferred with Bobby about everything they knew, even calling Officer Dreckman and Castiel's old Captain, Rufus, back in NYC. They had every documented case of Lucifer's crimes and affiliations shipped over from the NYC precinct to fill in as many gaps as they could. On Friday, when the hospital called Bobby to say they were releasing Castiel, he turned to look at Dean.

"Son, you best be going over there to get him. I can't leave now, not when we're still on high alert and your brother is out wrestling that shark like a bull with a hernia."

"Say what?"

"Just go help Novak, you idjit, and don't come back until Monday."

It made perfect sense to have Dean be the one to care for Castiel after the hospital. The man had no family or relations to call upon, and everyone of his acquaintance had more urgent responsibilities that meant the safety of the greater population. At least that's what Dean told himself as he pulled up to the patient loading zone. Besides, he doubted anyone else knew Castiel well enough to give the right kind of care he needed other than Dean himself.

_Yeah, you just bet you know what to give him, Winchester._

Dean hit the brakes hard, jerking the alignment. He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, hating himself and his own thoughts. It didn't matter what he felt. It didn't matter what he wanted. What mattered what Castiel, coming home and being well and not being pressured to do or say anything just because Dean couldn't control his own selfish wishes. _That is IT,_ Dean though as he climbed out of the Impala. _From here on out, Winchester, you keep your damn mouth shut and you focus on the big picture here. You fix this, and don't even think about fucking it up._

He controlled himself, putting on his best grin as a nurse brought Castiel out in a wheelchair.

"Heeey, there he is. Ready to go home, Cas?"

Castiel met his gaze, his face softening into a tired but genuine smile.

"Yes, Dean, I should like that very much. The beds here are not orthopedic, and I find my sleep lacking in any real REM cycles."

The nurse shook her head fondly. "I take it this is the normal Mr. Novak?"

Dean nodded, and a secret smile was shared between the two of them. The nurse filled Dean in on all the aftercare information, the medicine doses and the therapy options. It was going to be a lot of work, but manageable, if Castiel would cease being stubborn and do what he was told.

The drive home was quiet, Castiel drifting in the passenger seat but keeping himself awake long enough to get to his apartment, out the car, and carefully up the elevator. Dean got them inside, setting down the hospital bag he'd brought Cas several day earlier, and went about getting his bedroom ready for a nap. Castiel moved about the bathroom, undressing slowly and downing a couple of the pain relievers before stepping into the tub for an actual bath. Dean stood outside the bathroom door to make sure everything was fine.

"Dean, I am capable of bathing myself, you do not need to hover there."

"Say that again when you try to get out of the tub, Cas. I've seen _Final Destination_."

"I do not understand that reference."

"Eh, it's better that you don't." The memory alone was enough to make Dean crack the door open just a bit to hear better. He plugged his music player into Castiel's stereo adapter and allowed Aerosmith to fill the room.

After a time he heard the plug pop in the tub, the gurgle of water going down the drain, and the shuffling movements of Castiel slowly getting himself out of the tub. It was quiet for a few minutes, and after "Carry On" faded away on the stereo, Dean knocked on the door.

"You good in there, Cas?"

A harsh exhalation responded, followed by a hoarse, "Dean? I need your help, please."

The cop was in there in seconds, finding Castiel sitting on the toilet, wrapped in his towel and sweating.

"I am ok, Dean. I just... got winded from getting out. You were correct, I'm not in full control of my muscles just yet. And I do believe the medicine is working in full swing now."

"That stuff's hardcore, man, you can't take it _before_ you take a bath or you might just slip under. Don't hide what you're thinking from me, Cas, ok? You gotta be honest or I can't help you the way I need to."

"I will, Dean, I promise."

Dean shook his head ruefully, hefted an arm around Castiel's waist and carefully guided him to his bed. He laid him down and tucked him in, a flash of _déjà_ vu reminding him of how he'd done this before, that first night when Castiel was drunk. The technician was asleep before he even had a chance to say goodnight. Dean watched him sleep for a bit, watched the way he breathed slowly and steadily, his eyes moving beneath his lids in that blessed REM cycle he'd been denied in the hospital. It took all he had to squash an unnamed emotion before it could materialize in his mind, and Dean quietly made his way out of the apartment.

Dean took to visiting Castiel everyday, helping to clean house, do laundry, even cook him easy meals (thank God for soup and sliced bread). He helped change Castiel's bandages, administered the prescribed meds, and tried to be the best entertaining company he could be. Lots of bed rest meant lots of TV and book reading, and soon enough they'd covered most everything in the entire apartment. The time off was wonderful. Their friendship returned to it's former easiness, companionable but not too close, and Dean was content to let it stay that way.

By the end of the month Castiel was fully mobile, even heading back to work for a few hours each day to work up his old stamina, Bobby kept him to deskwork, not allowing him to put away any tagged evidence on shelves higher or even lower than his waist. Dean was pleased, not only for the recovery, but because on the flipside they had a firm defense against Crowley and an even stronger offense to counter sue. It was up to Sam to take the lead.

And yet, it seemed almost too easy. Something weird was hovering just off he horizon, but Dean couldn't figure out what it could possibly be. But even that took a backseat, as no matter how hard he tried, Dean couldn't stop thinking about Castiel. About what they were supposed to talk about, or if Castiel even remembered much of what he'd said during the hospital stay.

The angst followed Dean until the weekend, when he finally gave himself a mental kick and asked if Castiel wanted to come over for movie night. It would be the first once since before the shooting, and Dean found he missed Castiel's presence in his home more than he should.

"Sam can't join us, but if you want to it'd be real nice to just relax and watch something."

"I will be over at seven, Dean. Thank you." Castiel smiled, the emotion not quite reaching his eyes, but sincere nonetheless.

Dean grinned, his step lighter as he finished the work day and drove home to get ready. He put some beer in the fridge and grabbed a fast shower to wash away the day. At seven o'clock on the dot, his doorbell rang, and Castiel stood on the porch with trenchcoat and a bag of doughnuts in hand.

"I brought sweets for us to share."

"Aw, thanks, Cas. Geez, you look dead on your feet. Get in here and sit down before you fall over."

Castiel sat down inelegantly on the ratty couch and lifted a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it harshly. "It's been a rough week, Dean. Our defense against Lucifer is solid, but I feel there's something we're missing, something Crowley could fight us with."

Dean handed him a beer and then sat back against the cushions. "Hey, man, it'll all work out. You know Sammy's got that locked up. If there's somethin' fishy about Crowley's defense, he'll find it." He hit the remote and an old Western popped on the screen.

"I suppose you're right. Sam is diligent, and knows what he's doing. There is no one better suited for this." Castiel rolled his beer can between his hands, hunched in a sitting position as the movie began.

Thirty minutes later, when the Sheriff was torn between shooting the bank robber or saving the schoolmarm's life, Dean noticed Castiel was in the same position he'd been in since the movie started. Fine lines marred his brow and his hand unconsciously reached up to his neck again.

"Hey," Dean said. "You still in some pain, Cas?"

"A little. I will be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Stress often has that effect on me, and it's not helping that my chest still aches if I push too hard on it in some fashion, or if it is cold." He reached up to lightly touch the gunshot wound. A month healed but it still hurt sometimes.

"Nah, don't beat yourself up, man. C'mere." Dean lightly gripped Castiel's shoulder, pulling himself up and half behind the hunched man, while turning Castiel slightly away to an angle. He put his hands on the muscles of his shoulders and gave a squeeze.

"Damn, Cas, you weren't kiddin'. Feels like a rock in there. It's because you slouch at that damn desk everyday, and even now when the doc says you're supposed to relax."

A slight flush bloomed over Castiel's cheeks. "I... I _am_ trying to relax. That is why I came over after all."

"Yeah, well, you suck at it. And it ain't just Crowley, is it? Whatever's keepin' you on edge, just let it go, man. It's not important." Dean continued his ministrations, rubbing his thumbs along Castiel's shoulder blades and finding each knot along the muscle.

The movie droned on, ignored, the silence of the two men punctuated only by a quiet groan here and there as Dean found the tenders spots in Castiel's back. Gradually, Castiel began to loosen and relax, leaning back a bit into Dean's touch.

Dean's hands began to travel along Castiel's spine, up and down, over the shoulders and onto the biceps. "Ah, there it is. Feelin' better? I gotcha, man, you know it's all good when you come over here. Just relax and enjoy." He raked his hands to the base of Castiel's skull and gave a squeeze.

A moment later, the gravelly voice responded. "Do you?"

Dean faltered, his hands stopping at the base of Castiel's neck. "What?"

"You said you got me. Do you mean that?"

"I... I mean, yeah, you know. We're buds, man, you can count on me." His voice was shaky.

Castiel froze, barely moving but for speaking. "I know that. And I do. But there's something else. The ways you've helped me after my release, what you said at the hospital. I don't remember much but I heard your words. Something important you needed to tell me. What did that mean? We promised we'd be honest with each other, Dean, and I feel you're omitting something. Please... tell me what you're thinking."

Dean swallowed and let is hands slip to Castiel's shoulders. "I don't think I can... it'd change us."

Castiel spoke like he were calming a wild animal. "I don't fear that. Please tell me what you're thinking."

A creeping heat started in Dean's face and worked down his neck, contrast to the cold sweat of his hands still poised on Castiel's shoulders. "I..."

Oh well. Better to get it over with and cut it out. It'd been building for so long, and after the shooting, Dean knew it couldn't have lasted without something giving. So he began to move his hands again on the thick muscle of Castiel's shoulders. One last chance to feel the warmth of him before it all turned to dirt. And amazingly enough, though Dean sucked with emotions and speaking his thoughts out loud, he found himself talking freely.

"Ah dammit... we've worked together for a long time now. I know we got off on the wrong foot, and you were right, doughtnuts ain't so good for a breakfast, but I just- I never took well to someone talking _back_ to me, y'know? Takin' my shit and turning it around on me, that hit real sore. But you did. And now, I'm happy for it. I'm so damn happy you did, Cas. You started burrowing under my skin that first day and you never let up. Despite the crap I dish out, I gotta tell ya... you're my best friend, man... " He pushed on.

"I know how hard you work, and how much you sacrifice to help others get ahead. First one in, last one out, I know that too. I know you like your coffee with two creams and no sugar. You wear that damn trenchcoat to work every day, even in summer. You drive like an old lady, you got bookmarks in every book you own like you'll never finish them, and you use a knife and fork on pizza. On _pizza_ , Cas! Your brain is somethin' else, but I can't get over how it works." His hands stopped moving.

"When you got shot... it felt like everything has stopped, and I was hit with the thought that I failed. I didn't move fast enough, I didn't think better, I let you down. I saw blackness, like I was never gonna wake up. And then it hit me - I didn't really wanna wake up if you weren't alive." Dean paused, taking a deep breath. He slid his hands from Castiel's shoulders to around his chest, holding him against his own chest. His fingers felt the puckered rise of the bullet scar through the thin button down shirt. Dean laid his forehead on the back of Castiel's neck. Castiel didn't move except to breath.

"I know every part of you... except your heart. And... I wanna to know that, too. I wanna to be the person beside you. Go through life with you. I... don't just love you, Cas. I think I'm _in_ love with you. Your smiles, your laugh, that crinkly eyebrow look you get when the printer doesn't work. They're so rare, but when you do it... I can't get enough. I love it all."

Dean screwed his eyes shut and lifted his head to kiss the back of Castiel's neck. "I love _you_ , Cas."

For a second that seemed to stretch into hours, neither of them moved. Then Castiel slowly reach up and gently took Dean's wrists in his hands, removing them from his body. He stood, stepping away from Dean and turning around, his face devoid of emotion.

Dean felt a coldness seeping through him at the loss of contact, and he lowered his head in shame. Of course it'd turn out this way. Why did he think he'd get a chance, just one small chance, to have something good? Something to last? Luck never sided with Dean Winchester, no sir, and if Dean didn't get the memo before he sure as shit did now.

He was already planning his escape route from the house and the friendship when Castiel knelt down in his lap, knees on either side of Dean's hips, and slowly embracing Dean in too tight a hug. Castiel's arms went around him, anchoring Dean to his chest, and on instinct Dean wrapped his own arms around the small of Castiel's back.

"Thank God..." came the rocks-and-leather voice in Dean's ear. _Wait, what?_

"Cas? I...I don't-" Dean stammered, confused, until Castiel pulled back just enough to bring their faces aligned. His eyes held equal parts relief and determination. He grasped Dean's head in his hands and took a breath.

"Do you know why I took that bullet instead of you, Dean?" Dean shook his head. "It was because I had decided that if anyone of us was going to leave that office alive, it would be you."

" _No_ , Cas, not me. It wasn't supposed to play out that way, it's my _job_ to-" His words were cut off when Castiel put a hand over Dean's mouth, stopping the flow.

"Dean... your job is to protect and serve the innocent. My job is the same. It just involves a lot more paperwork. I made my choice. I chose to protect _you_." He grinned into the lush green of Dean's eyes. "If I had known sooner how you felt, we would have saved ourselves a lot of time. It's not broken, Dean."

He slid his hand from Dean's mouth and cradled the back of his head. He brought his other hand around to frame Dean's jaw, gliding a thumb over his lips before replacing them with his own.

It was their first real kiss since the night in the Cage, after Azazel had tried to run them down. But this time, there was no hiding the feelings both men had been suppressing for so long.

Lips gave way to open sighs, tongues dancing together in a hot and slow slide. Every press, every stroke brought fire to their mouths as they licked and caressed, mapping out the shape and texture of each brush. Kissing almost seemed perfunctory before, like you had to knock on the door before you could go in. But here in the dark room, on Dean's old couch, the doors were wide open and beckoning for entrance.

Castiel had wondered on more than once occasion what being with Dean would be like, and while it all screamed new and fresh, he also felt a deep-seated contentment, that he _knew_ it would be this way. With Dean, everything locked into place. It always had.

Castiel felt hands at his waist, rucking up his shirt and resting on his ribs. Blunt fingernails scraped lightly over each bone, thumbs gliding up to call his nipples to rapt attention. There was a pinch, and suddenly Dean was rolling the pert nubs between his fingers to bring them erect. Castiel broke the kiss on a halted gasp, eyes slitted open to stare at Dean. The man himself grinned at the sight of Castiel's flushed face and dilated eyes.

"Ah, seems we have a winner," he smirked. "Anythin' to share with the class, Novak? About my A+ performance?" A low growl was his answer as Castiel shifted his weight in Dean's lap, straddling his hips. He arched against him and curled his feet around Dean's calves.

Dean's smug face dropped as he felt the hard bulge of Castiel's jeans pressing his own. Then the little punk began to rock on it, back and forth oh so easily, building up pressure.

The pressure became a deep ache low in his gut, and Castiel began to move harder against Dean, grinding his hips against the other man's. Dean's hands dropped to Castiel's ass, gripping him firmly. The ache became a throb, and Dean swore up and down the blood was pooling in his head on purpose; to kill him in the sexiest way possible. He could hear Castiel's hot panting in his ear.

"If this were truly a classroom," Castiel broke out between strokes, hands roving through Dean's hair, "I'd be giving you a D."

Dean's jaw dropped, and he stared wide-eyed at the man in his lap. "Shit, dude, did you just make a _joke_?"

His laughter rang out in the tiny house, and before long, Castiel was chuckling alongside. Their movements slowed to a stop, allowing their breathing returning to normal, and they finally were able to _look_ at each other.

Dean felt a genuine smile tug his mouth, and he brushed away an errant tear from his eye (the laughter, of course). He let out a shuddering breath and looked up. "Hey, Cas."

An answering smile was returned to him. "Hello, Dean."

The smirk wasn't leaving Dean's face, and he glanced at the clock on the TV. "Geez, nearly midnight. Guess I shoulda checked the runtime on that movie, huh?"

"Indeed."

"So, uh... I guess you-I mean you probably wanna head back ho-"

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Take me to bed."

Dean blinked. Well, damn. So much for subtlety and false assumptions.

"Yes, sir." Another cheeky grin, and Dean ruined it by yawning annoyingly loud. "Ah damn, sorry Cas. I still haven't been able to sleep much lately."

"And that is precisely what we will be doing tonight. Now get up."

Dean chortled, standing and stretching his frame as Castiel moved to turn off the TV and remaining lights in the apartment. Together they walked to the bedroom, playfully shoving each other with stupid grins on their faces. It seemed so easy, disrobing and putting on sleepwear. Dean changed into his favorite AC/DC shirt and a loose pair of boxers, then rummaged through his dresser for spares. He chucked them at Castiel. "Sorry, Cas, only got one size. May swim on ya."

Castiel stilled after catching the clothes, "I don't wear shirts to bed anymore. They chafe my chest too much, and I need to save the softer undershirts for work." He quietly folded the shirt up and handing it back.

Dean looked at him, eyes glinting, before walking over and kissing him lightly in understanding. He set the shirt back in its drawer. With teeth brushed, pajamas bottoms donned, and with the promise of breakfast the next morning (Dean's cooking, don't let Cas near the toaster), they sat down on the edge of the bed.

The cocky attitude began to fade, and Dean wasn't sure what to say. Luckily, the choice was taken from him by Castiel's firm but soft, "I'll take the left side, if you please." And just like that, they had their placements, and were underneath the covers staring at the ceiling. Dean exhaled, reaching his hand out and finding Castiel's beneath the sheets.

"Still can't believe it. That your mouth is good for somethin' other than bitchin' about protocol."

"It's only fair. I now know your arms have more merit than waving a gun and knocking everything over."

"That was one time, and Garth didn't say anythin' about that stack of papers on the lunch table. That's for food, not spreadsheets."

"Be that as it may, you should at least always keep your gun firmly ensconced in your holster when not-" His words were cut by Dean's mouth slanted across his own. An unmistakable _shut up_.

"OK, OK, I get it, Novak. Geez. Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. You lay off the naggin' at work, and I'll make sure to keep my gun firmly in it's place."

"Firmly? Safety lock on, barrel cleaned and loaded, tied correctly on the belt?"

"Of course. Wouldn't want to shoot too early, trigger cocked and all, know what I mean?" Even in the dark, Castiel could see Dean's waggling eyebrows.

"Yes, Dean." Castiel turned, laying his arm over Dean's chest and bringing their legs to entwine together. "I know what you mean." He felt Dean's arm curve under his neck and around his back, and he nestled his head against the worn fabric of the AC/DC shift. The smell of laundry soap and _Dean_ lulled him to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

_"And why the HELL would I do that?. . . "_

_"Because I as a good as killed Michael myself . . . "_

_"I'll put you down, you bastard!"_

_BANG. BANG._

_"CAS!!"  
_

Dean jerked awake, sitting straight up. He reached out blindly, hitting the soft down of the comforter and scanning the room for... for what? He was in his own bed, in his room, the night heavy against the window curtains. The clock read four in the morning, and the left side of the bed was empty. Dean could hear movement in the bathroom, and the sink running water.

Willing the memory to fade, Dean lay back down, curling up on his side and clutching his pillow to his chest to wait out the shaking of his limbs. Not much later the door to the bathroom opened, and a warm body slid into the bed next to him. He turned over, arms wrapping around Castiel's chest as the man settled into the pillow.

"Dean? Are you all right?"

Castiel was met with silence as Dean remained firmly locked beneath his jaw, nose breathing in the scent of Castiel's skin. Lips were pressed to the vein in Castiel's neck, and Dean shook his head ever so slightly. Although he didn't know what to make of it, Castiel returned the embrace, and whispered "It's OK. I'm here." Dean fell back asleep to the soothing hand running through his hair.

*** 

A few hours later, Castiel woke to the smell of coffee and burned bacon. He looked around the room, snagging Dean's discarded jeans and putting them on. They hung loosely on his hips, but fit well enough, and he headed out to the kitchen.

Dean was leaning against the counter, sipping from a mug and gazing out the window thoughtfully. Dishes were in the sink, and a single plate of bacon and hash browns were sitting on the counter. He turned at Castiel's entrance, taking in the sight of mussed hair, ill-fitting clothes and exhausted eyes. He set his mug down, approaching the man slowly, green eyes locked onto blue. Castiel moved forward hesitantly.

"Dean, I-"

Dean slid his hand behind Castiel's neck and brought his head forward in a kiss. Castiel stiffened, eyes closing on instinct and breath pausing as his brain processed the action. Dean pulled away, eyes concerned just a tad sad, but he gave a small smile nonetheless.

"Sorry, just... needed to do that. Makin' sure last night wasn't a dream."

Castiel blinked, nodding lightly in understanding before pushing forward and kissing Dean back. His tongue gently slid along the seam of Dean's lips, and when they opened, he let it glide inside to war with the other. Castiel's hands found purchase at Dean's waist, and after a moment he broke off, quirking an eyebrow at the cop.  
  
"I am pretty sure we're awake, Dean."  
  
They both laughed, and Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel's.  
  
"Last night was definitely real," he spoke quietly, almost disbelievingly.

"And so was this morning."  
  
Dean sighed, turning away from the technician and dragging his hand across the man's shoulders. He stood in front of the sink and began to wash his breakfast dishes. Castiel picked up the remaining plate and began to eat the food atop it.  
  
"I had a bad dream is all, Cas."  
  
"I won't push, but you know you could talk to me if you so chose."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But I ain't into fancy talk and chick-flick moments, man. Maybe later, when it's not so fresh and all, in my mind."

Castiel pursued his lips but remained silent, making a mental note to address the issue further in the future, if needed. Assuming they had a future.

He finished his meal, handing the plate to Dean to be washed while he retreated to the bedroom to hunt down a shirt. He paused in the threshold, looking at the rumpled sheets and his clothes mixed with Dean's on the floor. He grabbed the AC/DC shirt, bringing it to his nose to inhale the scent, and promptly dropped it when a figure pressed up close on his back.

"Hey. Didn't mean to startle you. What's up?"

Castiel sighed, moving into the room and pulling on his shirt from the previous night.

"It's just so different now, and I'm unsure how to proceed. Nothing has changed about the situation we're facing, the pending trials, and Lucifer is no doubt planning something for revenge, but I feel uprooted and flighty. Like I could scatter into pieces if I allowed myself to. But I don't think I would, if..."

He trailed off, turning to look at Dean.

"I don't think I would if I knew you were there to help me pick them up."

Dean approached him, grabbing his hand and bringing it up between them.

"I will be, Cas," he said as he pressed small kisses to the technician's knuckles. "I meant what I said last night... and if you'd have me, I'll be there to pick you up whenever you need."

Castiel raised an eyebrow, smirking at the declaration. Dean coughed, dropping his hand but keeping it entwined in Castiel's.

"Ah shit, I just said I don't do sappy moments, and here I am being a tool."

"Well, tool or not, you do help fix things, and I am grateful for it."

That seemed to be enough, and they separated long enough to dress and get ready for the day.

"Wear something comfy, Cas, I'm takin' you out for fun today, and later on we can meet up with Sam for any progress on that Crowley douche."

Castiel chose to keep the jeans he had on, and included one of Dean's old henleys that had been washed to the point of threadbare softness. Satisfied with his choice, he returns to the living room just as Dean slid on his shoes.

"Are you going to tell me where we are going?"

"Nope."

"Will I like it?"

"I dunno."

"Can you tell me anything of use?"

"Yeah, I could."

"But you won't."

"Nope."

Castiel breathed a frustrated sigh, grabbing his coat off the hook near the door and heading out to the Impala. He sat himself in the passenger seat, idly flipping through Dean's music collection until the cop slid in the driver's seat a moment later. He revved the engine, quirking a grin at Castiel's unimpressed face before taking off down the road.

*** 

Bobby read the paperwork on Azazel's alibi for the fourth time, frustrated that there could be three witnesses to attest that he was two county lines over the night of the attack on Castiel. That meant that Crowley had pushed for a later trial date, to accumulate such sudden witness depositions to his client's innocence. The secondary paperwork on Alastair's trial was pushed back even further, to account Azazel's attack as possible evidence for the prosecution. If that fouled up, they at least had the threatening note, but Crowley's simple "Not Guilty" plea for both men made his skin crawl. He chucked the file over the table to Sam, taking a swig of his whiskey flask that he kept in the secret drawer of his desk.

"Crowley maintains a firm stance on 'Not Guilty', citing lack of evidence to his client's being at the scene of the crime, with these so-called witnesses to attest. It's possible he may not know about it, but we have Azazel's knife with fingerprints, as well as the witness depositions of four police officers. How does he expect to get out of this?"

"I dunno, kid, but a devil like that ain't just blowing smoke. Dick's been able to get Lucifer's men off the hook for years when they've been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. He thinks this'll be just another grease stain to mop up."

"Well, he involved my brother, so he can expect to get his ass handed to him from the both of us."

"I don't doubt it, kid."

The continued to build their case, organizing all claims and setting up dates with their fellow officers for the trial, when a soft clearing of the throat alerted them to a new presence just outside Bobby's office.

"Ah, hello gentlemen. I was wondering if I might have a word."

A posh, short man with thinning hair and an attempted mustache was leaning up against the doorjamb. A shorter woman with dark brown hair and a round face was smirking just behind him. He didn't wait for permission, coming in the sit in the chair opposite Bobby's desk.

"Captain Singer, I presume, and Mr. Winchester, lawyer extraordinaire. Pleased to officially meet you face to face. My name is Fergus Crowley."

"Yeah, we know who you are. Question is, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, just thought I'd come by for a little chat between friends, strictly off the record."

The brunette hanging by the door gave Sam a crooked finger, beckoning him over. "Well, hey there, tall dark and fancy. Mind telling a girl where she could use the powder room?"

Sam pursed his lips, gesturing to the right of the door. "Head down the hall and just pass the break area is a restroom."

"Why thank you kindly. Afraid I don't know my way around big scary police stations." She glanced over at Crowley. "Well, now that you're here and situated, sir, I'll be taking my leave after I power my nose."

With a grin that was more malice than charm, the woman headed down the hall.

"Ah, don't mind Meg, boys. She came along for moral support, as they say. Now then, to cut to the chase, I have a proposition for you."

He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and tossing a sealed letter onto the desk. He glanced at Bobby's letter opener in it's dock. Bobby took the envelope, sliding the letter opener through the white velum.

"'Off the record' nothing, Crowley. Whatever you say here is being used in the trials."

Crowley chortled, watching Bobby scan the contents of the letter with a furrow of his brows.

"Oh, now surely we can come to some sort of out-of-court arrangement, Moose. An exemplary monetary settlement, the two men in question get a hefty fine and community service, and a nice fat restraining order to keep your two little unicorns safe and sound."

"No dice. Your boss' men are going to trial, and we will be putting them away for a long time."

The lawyer sat back up, placing a hand in mock offense to his chest.

"My boss? Whatever do you mean? As you have read in your files, I'm sure, Mr. Morning Star has no more ties to these two gentlemen, and hasn't for quite some time. Any such attack or attempt at violence, if there were any as you say, was strictly of their own volition. They would need help and medical attention, not jail and subjugation. And as there is very little evidence to go by, I would think you'd be happy for such an embarrassing failure at trial to be avoided."

Sam kicked the pedal of the visitor's chair, sliding it back to it's lowest setting and startling Crowley enough for him to grab at the desk. He took the letter opener from Bobby's grip and slammed in down in the wood between Crowley's thumb and index finger.

"We both know that's not true. And you had better be damn sure I will bring in every possible piece in my arsenal to take you and your dick of a boss down. And if I can't do it, you better be sure as shit that my brother is on the watch for you." Sam leaned in real close to Crowley's ear. "You know... off the record."

Crowley blinked rapidly, clearing his throat and straightening his tie as he stood.

"I can see that we're at an impasse. Very well, then, Mr. Winchester. I shall see you at court."

With a final glare at both of them, Crowley left the office.

Sam sat down, huffing out a breath in relief. That hadn't gone quite as he wanted, but it could've been worse. Bobby whistled, carefully removing the letter opener from the desk and placing it back in it's holder.

"That was damn reckless posturing, boy. Don't wanna go making threats off the cuff like that."

Sam chuckled weakly, moving to put the letter and it's documents inside the case folder, when something niggled at the back of his mind.

"Bobby... when that woman, Meg, left... which direction did she take?"

"Hell if I know. Why?"

Sam exited the office, looking to the right to see Jo coming out of the ladies room.

"Jo! Wait! How long were you in there for?"

"For shit's sake, Sam, that's rude! You can't just ask a girl how long she was in the john like that, even if she had a double bacon bean burrito for lunch."

"Was there a woman inside the restroom just now?"

"No, thank God. I commandeered the place for the last twenty minutes, if you must know. By the by, don't eat at Crazy Carlos' Carne con Queso Casa if you ever want your ass to survive the day."

The warning signal blared in Sam's mind, and he looked behind him down the hall to the opposite side. It was a dead end, with only the door to the basement as a way out.

"Shit!" He bolted, flinging open the door and barreling down the stairs to the Cage. The entrance door was hanging open, Castiel's security systems shut down and blinking red. Sam whirled around, seeing a small economy bathroom that the station had installed for Castiel's use. He fumbled with the doorjamb to see that it was locked. He cocked back, bringing his food up and kicking the door in on its hinges.

The room was empty, with a small window at ground level broken wide open to the weekend sun.

Sam ran back to the Cage, looking around. He rolled through Castiel's handwritten rolodex, grateful he had kept such a meticulous backup system for whenever his computer failed. He found the small slip of paper he needed and opening the corresponding drawer. It was empty.

A cold dread began to creep up his spine, and he pulled out his cell phone to dial Dean. After several rings, the line picked up.

_"I swear, Sammy, someone had better be dead or dyin' right now, because I'm-"_

"Dean... bad news. Azazel's knife is missing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short. Chapter 11 will be up in a couple days.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

The drive was familiar, but Castiel rarely used the side roads that led out of town. They wound past the high school, curved around by the park and into the industry section of warehouses, and from then on it was open road all the way to the next town over.

Dean pulled onto the side road that led to the park, and a bright flash of color peeked through the grove of trees. Castiel blinked with the realization of where they were heading.

"Dean, you are not seriously-"

"-taking you to the traveling mini carnival in the park for the cheapest games and ricketiest rides in the southern hemisphere? You bet yer ass I am. We've been under way too much stress to move forward with clear heads, so I'm takin' you out on a good ol' fashioned first date."

It would be hilarious if it weren't so stupid, but it was stupid enough to distract them both from all the shit that had been going down for the last couple of months. And Dean did look stupidly happy to be there. Castiel made a mental note to pull out cash for tickets, as he knew that Dean wouldn't let them leave this place until they'd done at least one ride and a game booth.

Their first stop was the gravity rotator, pushing them against the wall through sheer force, where Castiel squeezed Dean's hand around the safety restraint until he felt a tendon pop. An unexpected flash of bright light temporarily blinded them both, and the picture at the end of the ride featured Dean laughing with eyes crossed and Castiel's face as firm and terrified as if he were witnessing childbirth. Dean bought it to join his family photo on the bedside desk.

The tables turned when Castiel made him go on the suspension swings. Dean gripped the chains of his chair tightly, eyes shut and teeth clenching as the ride lifted him off the ground and in the air. Afterwards, his shaky legs decided for them it was time to sit down and eat, while Castiel nearly floated alongside him.

"It feels like flying, Dean."

"I know, I _hate_ flying."

"Well, had I known-"

"-you would have made me do it first thing, you jackass."

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, I gotta sit down for a bit so I don't blow chunks everywhere."

Dean dragged his companion to a large water tank, where several rickety-looking plastic swans were guiding people into a dark tunnel.

"Honestly, Dean? A 'Tunnel Of Love'?"

"Hey, it's hot outside, and I'm this close to loosin' it. 'Sides, it'll be good for a laugh."

It _was_ a laugh - tiny fake cherubs and various cardboard animals with glittery hearts above their heads stood along the watery path. Cheesy romantic music floated through tinny speakers in the overhang, and more than one child in front of them or behind them vocalized their disgust at Mommy and Daddy (or others) kissing. Castiel turned to tell Dean exactly what he thought of this ride when he saw that Dean's face was turned away, fixated firmly on a giant cut-out panda with a shirt that said "I Wuv Hugs." His hand, however, was inching its way over to lightly hold Castiel's.

Castiel smiled slightly, allowing his hand to be grabbed, and threading their fingers together to top it off. He may have imagined it, but he would swear he heard Dean breath a sigh of relief as their boat sailed through the rest of the ride and back out into the sun.

Back on land, as it were, they converged on a host of food booths for cotton candy, churros, some kind of taco with filling Castiel did not believe was legal, and a classic hot dog covered in sodium and grease.

"Dean... what _is_ a hot dog?"

"You know those parts that are leftover in the Ikea box after you put together your shit? S'made of those and the part of animals that aren't exactly soft."

"Oh."

To his chagrin, Castiel bought two.

After lunch, they passed a row of carnival games, barkers calling out each "easy-to-win" challenge, and promising stuffed animals of various sizes, colors, and franchises. Dean glanced over one and saw that it was hitting milk bottles with baseballs, and they were stacked in three levels of difficulty. Dean snorted, rolling up his sleeves and sliding three dollar bill to the barker in exchange for three of the balls. With careful precision, he aimed all three at the bottles sitting in the intermediate level, knocking them all down. The patrons watching him all applauded genially as the barker swung down a small guinea pig with angel wings on it's back and handed it to Dean. He handed it to Castiel.

"Don't say I never did anythin' for ya, sweetheart."

Castiel eyed the guinea pig, tilting his head. He handed it back to Dean and pulled out his wallet.

"Which is the hardest level, sir?"

The barker blew a bubble of gum, popping it noisily and cracking it between his teeth. "Advanced, gotta hit all three of those ones." He pointed to the top shelf of the booth, where three bottles were placed in clear view, but also between several obstacles. The one on the right was the hardest, wedged between crates; one would have to get a dead shot to knock that one down.

"Three baseballs, please."

"Good luck, sucker."

Castiel hefted the weight of the ball in his hand, aiming for the farthest bottle on the left. He struck the neck, knocking it over easily. The crowd around him 'ooh'ed their approval, and Dean nodded congenially, patting his shoulder.

"Nice one, Cas."

The second bottle was trickier, tucked further back in a corner. Castiel focused, breathing evenly before launching the ball. It struck true, spinning the bottle in its place before it hurtled to the floor.

"Whoa... didn't know you had it in you, man!"

Castiel allowed a small smile at Dean, pleased to have surprised him.

The last bottle was evil, surround on all sides but the front by small cardboard boxes and a metal bottom. It wasn't situated at the front of the shelf, but pushed back further, the lip a teasing reminder of how limited the window was. Castiel aimed and threw, missing it by a hairsbreadth, and bouncing off the lip of the shelf. His audience sighed in dismay, a few smatters of clapping for his attempt. Castiel narrowed his eyes, darting them around the layout of the booth before handing a single dollar to the barker.

"Just one ball, if you please."

Castiel breathed out, eyes darting, before aiming slow and launching the ball upwards at the side of the booth. It hit hard, bouncing off and ricocheting off the ceiling before rebounding on the opposite wall and smacking directly through the wall of crates around the bottle. Everything came crashing down from the impact, scattering over the floor to the metallic tinkle of the fallen bottle. The barker's jaw dropped, gum falling out to land on his shoe.

Castiel nodded his satisfaction, pointing to the top winning prizes. "I'll take that one, thank you."

The barker nodded in a daze, unhooking a giant pink pig in a flannel shirt and handing it to the technician. Castiel in turn handed it to Dean and took back his own stuffed animal, smoothing the wings down before raising his eyes to Dean's. The officer was stupefied, volleying back and forth between the trashed game booth and Castiel. He silently wrapped his hand around Castiel's bicep and gently steered him away from the games. Castiel followed, unsure what to make of the mood.

Dean walked them past the food stalls and into a corner by the restrooms, where an old print-out photo booth stood unused. He pulled back the curtain and ushered the technician inside, sealing them away from the outside world. The pigs, both regular and guinea, were dropped to the floor of the booth as Dean surged forward and caught Castiel's lips in a bruising kiss.

"That was friggin' _hot_ , Novak, sonnuva _bitch_."

"It was just-" Castiel murmured out between kisses. "-math and how to use physics-" Kiss. "-to map out the trajectory." French kiss. "Like billiards." He gave up trying to explain, happily content to play swordfight with Dean's tongue in his mouth.

Dean growled low in his throat, reaching into his back pocket for a spare five dollar bill. He pulled off of Castiel's lips, red and inflamed, and held up the bill. "This is a photo booth from the 90's, Cas. That old-timey Polaroid way of takin' pictures on a strip." He pushed the five dollars into the money slot, and a cheery voice echoed from the camera in the wall.

**"Get ready! Here come your pictures! 3..."**

Dean pulled Castiel back in by the neck, kissing him sweetly this time.

 **"2... 1... Cheese!"** POP! A bright light flashed, catching their pose. Castiel drew back, staring at the camera that caught their kiss.

**"Ready? Here comes the next one! 3..."**

Dean grinned evilly, thrusting his thumbs under the hem of Castiel's shirt and yanking it up past his nipples to bunch at his neck.

**"2... 1..."**

He licked a hard line straight up Castiel's sternum, earning a startled groan just as the light flashed on **"Cheese!"** POP!

Castiel blinked furiously, thinning his lips and reaching down to grab Dean's crotch through his jeans. Dean faltered, smacking his head on Castiel's shoulder with an open mouth and "Holy _crap_ , Cas!" Castiel kneaded it, smiling confidently towards the camera.

 **"3... 2... 1... Cheese!"** POP!

Castiel let go, quirking an eyebrow in challenge as Dean raised his head to glower. They stared at each other in a silent dare.

**"3... 2... 1..."**

Dean broke first, leaning his forehead on Castiel's, and laughing out loud. Castiel smiled back, blue eyes crinkling as they watched Dean's face.

 **"Cheese!"** POP!

The photo strip slid out of the bottom slot, four photos of Dean and Castiel in wallet size. Dean leaned forward to take it, but a firm hand shoved him backwards against the wall before delving past the waistband of his jeans. Castiel trailed his fingers through the wiry brush beneath, grazing the tips across something warm and more than a bit firm. He leaned forward to catch Dean's lips in a kiss just as a faint melody of _'Carry On My Wayward Son'_   sang out from Dean's hip.

Dean snarled, digging through his pockets to get his phone out. He broke off Castiel's lips, leaning his head back to hit the wall. Castiel changed angles and nipped his way down Dean's throat, hands clutching at the skin below his navel as the cop answered the call.

"I swear, Sammy, someone had better be dead or dyin' right now, because I'm-"

_"Dean... bad news. Azazel's knife is missing."_

"Fuck... fuck!" Dean swore, pulling away from Castiel and straightening his shirt. "Meet us at Cas' apartment, scout it out with one of the boys at the station in case someone's lurking there. Cas and I'll be over there in half an hour."

_"Got it. Be careful, Dean."_

He pocketed the phone, running a hand over his face before standing up and yanking the photo strip from the slot. He looked over his shoulder as he pushed back the curtain.

"C'mon, Cas, we're heading to your place. Back to the shit storm."

He stepped out, Castiel following on his heel and clutching both the stuffed animals. Dean was already striding towards the parking lot when Castiel caught up the few steps with a hand on his shoulder. Dean looked back, face pinched with worry and frustration. Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come. He settled for kissing Dean's forehead, and together they continued their path to the Impala.

*** 

They pulled into Castiel's complex in tense silence, meeting Sam at the entrance and heading up to the apartment. Dean and Sam sat at the kitchen island, going over every step of the encounter at the police station while Castiel set himself to making dinner.

"The security systems were off. No one saw her either going down the stairs or to the bathroom to confirm or deny her alibi, and we have no evidence at all to tie Meg to the theft... but it's clear she did it."

"Can we get anythin' on Crowley for distractin' you guys, or any cameras in the hallway?"

"Nothing. It's a dent in the plan, so Bobby put extra guards to watch Azazel and Alastair. I wouldn't be surprised if Lucifer tried something else before the trials to undermine us."

Dean drummed his fingers restlessly on the island, gritting out a "Hey Cas, is dinner ready or what?"

Castiel turned from the oven, eyebrows lowered over his eyes as he gingerly placed a casserole dish of chicken parmigiana and noodles on the stove top.

"Please don't snap at me, Dean. I'll serve you food when it's cool."

"Fine, whatever, get me a beer while you're at it."

"I'll give you a smack in the face if you don't knock that off. You should be polite to others, not bark orders like a pissed off dog."

Dean started, staring at Castiel in surprise. The technician had never raised his voice to Dean, not even the first day they met (although Dean certainly deserved it then). He glanced quickly at Sam, who was glaring at him as if to say _Good going, stupid, you better fix this._

Dean cleared his throat, standing to his foot and approaching Castiel from behind. Sam wisely gathered the papers scattered on the island to lay them out on the dining table one room over. Dean made sure he'd gone before laying a gentle hand on the back of Castiel's neck.

"I, um... I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I'm just- y'know."

Castiel sighed, relaxing into Dean's touch while he served helpings of the Italian dish onto three plates. "Yes, Dean. I know." He turned against Dean's hand, kissing the palm of it before biting a fingertip. "Don't do it again."

Dean chuckled softly. "I won't." He took one of the offered plates, and reached into the fridge to grab two beer bottles by their necks. Laying all the dishes (and a glass of wine for Castiel) on their respective place-mats on the island, the three men sat down for dinner.

The mood gradually got better, Dean and Castiel telling Sam about their date cut short, and how they were sort of kind of a thing now maybe. Sam nodded sagely, a bite of chicken wedged in his cheek.

"Knew it. Been waiting for you two to get on board for a while now."

Dean blushed hard, stabbing his spaghetti noodles harder than necessary while Castiel sipped his wine.

"Well, you're next in line, Sammy boy. I've seen you eyein' a few girls around town, like Maddison at the law firm or Sarah at the college library."

Sam coughed, waving his hand. "No no, nothing like that. I mean, there _is_ someone, I met someone at work, but it's not like that!"

They all laughed, trading stories of Dean and Sam's youth with their father, and Castiel talking about fond memories of Gabriel and Anna. A few more pieces of the puzzle were falling into place in their lives, and it was good to find stronger ground.

Eventually, time slipped away, and as Castiel cleaned up the kitchen from dinner, Sam asked Dean to drive him back to his house. "I had Garth bring me, and after he checked everything out, I told him I'd stay. Didn't really plan much past that."

"Actually, um... I think I'm gonna stay here tonight, Sam. But, uh, take the keys to Baby and I'll pick her up tomorrow. We can meet at the precinct, that cool?"

Sam blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, no problem, Dean. My car's in your spot there anyway, so it'll be fine. I'll see you then."

"Yeah, if Cas' crappy Prius doesn't drown me in a cloud of economy efficient rainbows and righteousness."

"Suck it, Dean," Castiel said as he left the kitchen, and Sam roared as he left the apartment. He was still laughing as he backed the Impala out of the visitor's spot and drove away.

Dean closed the door, locking it tight before heading back into the living room. Castiel was leaning in the arch of the hallway, arms crossed and staring at Dean's form.

"Huh. Prolly shoulda asked if I could spend the night, eh Cas?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I mean, I can take the couch, man, I don't snore or nothin' and I promise I'll book it first thing tomorrow. The bus stop's around here somewhere, right?"

Castiel lifted a hand and crooked his finger, signaling Dean to follow him as he turned and walked into the bedroom.

"Ooo," Dean muttered, jogging after and tugging off his shirt. "Upgrade."

He walked into Castiel's bedroom to a towel hitting his face, and Castiel gesturing to the bathroom. "I suggest a cool shower tonight." Dean mumbled something under his breath as he stalked into the bathroom, then double taking at the mirror when he saw how sunburned his neck and arms had gotten at the carnival.

One cool shower later, he dressed in one of Castiel's spare pajamas pants and joined him on the bed. Castiel placed his bookmark on the page he was currently reading in his newest book, and reached over to the bedside table. He rummaged around, pulling out a bottle, and Dean licked his lips before realizing the bottle was aloe vera gel.

Castiel gestured for him to turn around, and he smeared a generous amount between his palms. Slowly he applied to gel to Dean's back, soothing the pattern of sunburn that had imprinted Dean's skin. It felt too damn good, and Dean let out a relieved sigh as he was rubbed. The massage continued for a few minutes, and Dean's eyes began to droop.

When Castiel's hands were no longer sticky with goo, he pulled back the covers for Dean to slip under while he went about the room turning off lights. When he returned, the two of them lay on their backs and stared at the ceiling.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Hm?"

"Are we movin' too fast?"

"I do not think so."

"'Cause this is pretty significant and all, sharin' a bed, like a trust level or somethin'."

"After all you said last night, Dean, I'm surprised we did not become a couple sooner."

"Yeah, my bad, Sammy's always sayin' I should be more honest and crap with my fee- wait, a couple?"

"If... if you want to be, that is. In an official capacity." Dean frowned at the hesitancy in Castiel's voice, and he realized that this _was_ a significant deal to the man. Run out of his hometown, cut off from his family, attacked twice and putting up with Dean's shit all the time, and yet he still managed to keep going, to keep fighting and stay strong under it all. The man was a saint!

No wonder Dean loved him.

He turned his head, not surprised to see twin blue eyes already staring back at him. He sought out the technician's hand beneath the blanket, lacing their fingers together, and smiled.

"I do. Want it to be. I mean, I- well, y'know."

Castiel smiled back, turning on his side to face the cop. "Yes, Dean. I know."

The both grinned, moving forward for a kiss before settling down to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/
> 
> Another short one, but this time . . .
> 
> ::angelic choir sings and holy bells ring::
> 
> I've earned my E-Rated wings!!

_"And why the HELL would I do that? What could you possibly say that would stop me from ending his pathetic, useless life?" Dean keeps his eyes on Castiel. The muzzle of the gun presses harshly into his forehead, and he's aware it could all be over in a second. A career of helping the average Joe and putting away the scum of the earth all boiling down to this one prick who thinks he's avenging his boss's dead brother._

_"Because I as a good as killed Michael myself." Dean starts at the gravelly tone, eyes darting to Alastair and back to the firm conviction he hears in Castiel's voice._

_"Because I was the one who registered the evidence in Michael's name, I was the one who testified in court to bring him down, and I was the one who put the paperwork through to get him put in the prison where he was murdered. Lucifer never knew that not only did his own cousin stand by when his family was arrested, but that he may as well of put the seal on the death warrant himself. So if anyone deserves your so-called brand of vengeance it would be me. Put the gun down."_

_The gun is shaking now. Dean can't breath. "Ohh, I'll put you down, you bastard!"_

_Suddenly the muzzle lifts away from him and aims at Castiel. Dean is frozen, seeing how his imminent end has suddenly switched gears and is now rolling down a different hill. He turns and reaches out to Castiel, sure that if he could just grab him somehow, he could pull them both out of harm's way. The guns go off, deafening him. Time slows to a crawl, and he sees Castiel's bullet hitting Alastair's hand, going through it and blasting out the back of his shoulder._

_Blood hits him full in the face as the hitman topples over, and when he opens his eyes from the spray he sees Castiel falling to his knees. A dark hole and a widening river of red are flowing from his chest. The technician looks at him ever so briefly before tipping over to hit the floor._

_Dean's legs are molasses. He moves, slips, and crawls over to Castiel. Picks up him in his lap and presses a hand to the wound. He calls out the door to the hallway, "Call an ambulance! Jo, Bobby, someone call a friggin' ambulance!" He hears feet running away. The eyes in front of him open. So much blue... "Hey-- hey Cas, hey! Stay awake, buddy, I need you to stay awake!" He stupidly shakes the man when his eyelids flutter. Weak, bloodstained hands grasp at Dean's arm._

_"Cas...! Cas, c'mon, stay with me, man. I need you to stay with me!" Castiel's lips are moving, trying to form words. "I... you... D... ean..." There's sound, but Dean can't process what it means. "Don't speak, buddy, don't waste energy. Just keep it together, help's coming. C'mon, Cas-- Cas?" Castiel's fingers loosen on his arm, and he just... stops. His eyes close, his head falls back, and his breath expels in a harsh breath. "Cas...? Cas! CAS!!"_

***

 _"Cas!"_ Dean woke with a jerk, eyes wide and terrified. His scream died on a choke, and there were tremors along his arms as the echoes of the dream receded in his ears. The clock read three a.m., and he flinched at a movement to his left.

"...Dean? W...what's wrong?" Beside him, Castiel blearily struggled to sit up, jolted awake from the force of Dean's yell. "What happened?"

Hands gently gripped his biceps as Dean tried to control his breathing. He swallowed hard and ran a hand down his face. "I... I keep seeing it. The dreams, they... I keep seeing it... seeing the blood..."

"Hey, hey. It's OK. I'm right here, Dean. I'm not leaving. I'm here with you." Castiel carded his fingers through Dean's sweaty hair, pushing back the bangs and gently cradling his jaw. "I'm safe. I'm whole. I am _not_ leaving you."

He pressed his mouth to Dean's, a kiss of comfort and reassurance. Dean responded, pushing his lips harder against the softness of Castiel's own. Teeth bit and tongues swirled as he breathed in the very air Castiel gave. He trailed down the side of Castiel's neck, mouthing openly at the throat and the tender skin of the collarbone.

Castiel gently tugged him down, laying them back on the pillow side by side. With a stilted gasp Dean laid his head on Castiel' sternum, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath. He pressed firm kisses there, bringing his arms around to hold Castiel close. Like a damn bursting, he clenched his eyes tight and allowed the words to fall.

"He used my fuckin' gun, Cas. _My_ gun. Like I damn near shot you myself..."

"Dean, no. _No_. Stop, you did nothing wrong. Nothing."

"I can't do it... I can't lose you again, Cas, I can't... it's too much. Too big."

Kisses in his hair. Hands cupping his neck, wiping away the sweat, and gripping his back tightly. "You won't lose me. I'm staying right here... with you." The smell of sweat and linen and soap in his nose. Soft skin and hard muscle under his cheek, warm and alive and his. Finally his.

They stayed wound together, letting the last vestiges of the nightmare pass out of Dean until sleep poked the corners of his vision. "...I love you, Cas. Love you." He closed his eyes to the world as Cas nodded his head reverently, whispered, "Yes," and let those precious hands run over his back until darkness took him away.

***

Castiel woke up to early morning sunlight across the bed and a warm heat plastered to his nipple. The haze of a dream about chasing a rabid dog began to dissipate under a strange onslaught of warmth, wetness, and a guttural groan that went straight to his head. The lips moved from him, blowing cool air onto the moist skin, and he couldn't suppress a shiver.

Plush lips grazed up his throat, coming to rest on his own in a long but chaste kiss. Castiel opened his sleepy eyes, seeing the reflection of green in the barely lit room. He began to sit up, but a calloused hand crept into his hair, holding it in a tight but painless fist. Another braced the muscular body above Castiel, in the junction of his arm and chest. Forrest green eyes were bright in the weak light, searching his own for assurance. Castiel nodded slightly, relaxing his shoulders back onto the mattress. Dean stared at him, expression unreadable, and he swallowed tightly before lowering his head to take Castiel's scar in his mouth.

The sensation jerked Castiel, arching him back into the pillow. The sensitive skin tingled and ached at the touch. A string of fire raced in his blood as Dean sucked, bringing out the scream of healed nerves, but tempered with the passion and care of love. Teeth gently scraped over the raised flesh, tongue circling the edges of the scar slowly.

Castiel could feel heat suffuse him, bringing a sheen of sweat to his forehead. He raised a shaky hand to cover the one in his hair, gripping the sheet beneath him for some semblance of control. Dean released him, laving the scar once more with his tongue, before bringing his eyes to meet Castiel's.

With emotions running so high his jaw was shivering, Castiel nodded. "I'm here, Dean... I'm h-here."

Dean exhaled sharply, diving down for another kiss, this one deeper than before. He slid through the seam of Castiel's lips, opening them up. Moving muscle against muscle. Trying to say with actions all the things dammed in his heart. His hands wandered lower, grinding the heel of his palm into Castiel's pubic bone, and feeling the response it drew.

He chuckled darkly at Castiel's murmured, "Oh shit..." and slid his hand down the front of the boxers to palm him. _He'd never been truly in love with someone before, and he found he wanted to give Castiel anything he wanted._

The bulge lay heavy and thick in his hand, and Dean squeezed it, running his fingers down the sides and back up to the waistband. He slid down he length of Castiel's body, meeting his navel, and pulled the boxers from his legs to toss to the floor.

Castiel was already hard, his length throbbing and straining upward against his stomach. Dean removed his own pajama pants, chucked them haphazardly over the side, and returned to face Castiel. He aligned their bodies and finally, _finally_ , they came together in a delicious slide of skin on skin.

A spark short-circuited in Castiel's brain at the joining of their cocks. It was dry and firm and so damn good to finally feel.

Still Dean did not speak, only move and touch and feel. He tasted the salt and sweat pooling in the hollow of Castiel's throat, he heard the breathy groans in his ear that were steadily growing in volume, and he felt the bite of fingernails in his back as the man he loved reached for the elusive supernova they would both find that night.

It was animalistic and primal, this mad urge to rut and dig and control. Castiel couldn't say when he pulled his leg around Dean's waist to make a cradle of his thighs. Dean didn't know when he placed his hand on the small of Castiel's back to urge himself harder into the vee of Castiel's groin.

On and on they rolled their hips together, Dean bracing himself on his forearm, until he finally reached behind himself and grasped one of Castiel's hands. He brought them both down to clasp their dicks, pumping up and down along the shafts. The wonderful glide of sweat and pre-come eased the way, slick hands moving over each other, catching the undersides of the heads and squeezing for all their worth.

They meshed their fingers to make one fist, and sped up the jack. Thumbs curved to rub each other's heads, and their hips continued the mad rush to completion. Snippets of the almost-hand job from the photo booth flashed through Dean's mind, reminding him of desire long delayed.

The friction was fantastic, the view hypnotic as twin heads fucked in and out of grasping fingers.

"Dean... Dean! Yes!" Castiel's words were a tangle in his mouth, his jaw going slack as a boiling heat started growing. "Fuck... fuck, Dean, I-- I'm gonna--!" Dean's knees shot up to kneeling, keeping himself in their shared grip, and he removed his hand from the brace of the bed to Castiel's chest, laying it over his heart. He lowered himself to Castiel's ear.

"Do it, Novak," came the guttural growl. And with a twist of his hand, Dean had him. Castiel's orgasm ripped from him, a silent scream on his lips as he pulsed and came, warm and wet between their fingers. He flung his head back, offering Dean the perfect view of his chest, and quick as a wink Dean gave a kiss to an offered nipple. He hunched over, his own release following Castiel's, until they were both sated, sticky, and aglow.

Slowly, Dean lowered himself to lay flush across Castiel's chest. He brought his hand from Castiel's heart to his neck and cupped it, laying a kiss on his forehead.

Not a bad job for their first time.

Despite the lethargy threatening him, Dean made himself get up to grab a towel from the bathroom, and gently cleaned them both up. Castiel breathed heavily, grasping out for Dean, and pulled him towards his back. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's middle, and held him tight. Slowly they drifted back off, sleeping deeply until the alarm sang to them hours later.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY GUYS, I MEANT TO UPDATE THE CHAPTER WITH A SMALL ERORR, AND ENDED UP DELETING THE WHOLE THING.
> 
> Here is Chapter 13 again, with a NEW added section at the bottom. Best to start at "Sam was eying the clock" . . .
> 
> I am so so sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Dean was what one would technically call a man of passion. He always watched a movie all the way through before giving his two cents, and would analyze the crap out of it so he'd be right in any argument that needed proof for his views. He had his favorite foods and music, and reasons why they were the best. He put one hundred percent into any job he was assigned, be it deskwork, stakeout, traffic watch or just his own hobbies of woodwork and mechanics. He often shouldered blame where it wasn't justified, and always tried to help out his fellow man in tough situations whenever possible. Ask any of his coworkers and they'd tell you he was an amazing person, and a great friend.

In short, Dean Winchester's actions spoke louder than words.

It had been a couple of weeks since Dean and Castiel more or less became a couple. Things hadn't really changed that much, other than gratuitous fondling and Castiel's newfound courage to talk back to Dean without fear of reprisal; if anything, their heated debates and verbal tiffs often ended with tongues and the occasional ass grab. Dean certainly didn't complain.

With the threat of the trial coming up the following week, and the theft of the knife on top, both Dean and Castiel were more than a little stressed. They were lucky if they could spend some time together during lunch each day, let alone trying to stay over at each other's apartments. Castiel still tired a little more easily than he used to, and Dean often worked morning and late night shifts in addition to his own research on Lucifer Morning Star. Sam and Bobby kept them on track though, and soon enough the stress would be over.

It was the middle of the week when Castiel was assisting Garth in his case of a narcotics bust that he realized that he and Dean had the same lunch hour that day. An interesting little thought passed through his brain, and he made it his mission to finish up with Garth as soon as possible so he could see his idea through. Upon completion, both men took the paperwork they had on them to Dean for sign-off before sending it down to the Cage to be filed by Castiel's temporary assistant/replacement (a perky blonde named Becky who had more than once given Sam the eye when he visited the precinct).

Dean looked up as they entered the office, the worry lines on his face and turned-down mouth softening at the sight of Castiel.

"Howdy boys, whaddaya got for me?"

Garth opened the file to the last page and slid it over. "Just need you to authorize the Gordon Walker case."

Dean signed it, a surge of pride going through him as he thought about how he could add Sergeant to his title in the future, if he kept working at it. He glanced up under his lashes at Castiel, licking his lips as he finished the name with a flourish. The technician merely raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and Garth in contemplation.

"Anywho, it's time for lunch. You on yours, too, Cas?"

"Shortly, yes. I've only to drop this down in the Cage with Becky and then I can accompany you on your lunch."

"All right, then, you do that while I'll freshen myself up. Y'know, get all nice an' pretty for ya." He winked as he left the office and headed to the restroom. Garth gathered the papers and looked at Castiel.

"I can take this down, if you just want to wait for Dean to get back."

"Thank you, Garth. I believe I will."

When the cop had left, Castiel slowly walked around the office, casually drawing the blinds down to cover each window whenever the hallway was free from passersby. He eyed the desk, gently pushing aside the various office supplies, paperwork, and Dean's newest coffee mug to make the desk bare. He smirked to himself, stepping back behind the office door until Dean returned.

When he did, he paused at the sight of his changed desktop, and nearly jumped out of his skin as Castiel closed and locked the door behind them.

"Gah! For shit's sake, Cas, you scared the crap out of me!"

Castiel made no move to reply, simply locking the door and hitting the light switch on the wall. He turned and slowly stalked toward the officer, backing him up against the cool wood of the desk with his grin still in place. Dean's thighs bumped into the edge and he reached back to grab it with both hands.

"Novak... what the hell are you doin'..."

Castiel pressed forward, aligning his body completely along Dean's and licking a trail from neck to jaw.

"It has been several days since we've had any time to ourselves, you know. I'm lucky if I even get to see you in passing."

Dean swallowed. "That so, huh? And what is this, then?" He tried to move his head but Castiel's fingers gripped his jaw and turned him back.

"I need to feel you... all of you, Dean..." Castiel breathed the words against the shell his ear, sending a wonderful spark straight to the officer's toes. His hands were clenched tightly around the edge of the desk, supporting him as he bent backward. Blue eyes darkened to midnight as Castiel leaned over Dean to put his weight heavily on Dean's hips. There was no mistaking the hard line of Castiel's erection against Dean's own.

"Damn, Novak, you sure got balls to do it during work hours." He snaked a hand around Castiel's waist, keeping them pinned to each other.

"I locked your door, and as you saw, I drew the blinds and the lights are now off. The sign out front says you'll be back from lunch in an hour." Fingers started work on loosening Dean's tie, drawing it from his neck and laying it on the desk. "No one can see us in here, and it has been days since I've properly seen _you_."

"Ah. Well, what'd I expect from a nerdy little dude obsessed with... protocol." Dean chuckled at the dark look Castiel sent his way. "Hey, man I call 'em as I see 'em." He grinned, palming himself through the fancy slacks Castiel himself had helped him purchase.

"Fair enough," the technician acquiesced. The glint in his eye should've warned Dean, but then again, Dean was never the sharpest tool in the shed. As calmly as if he were putting away laundry, Castiel deftly unbuttoned Dean's shirt, tugging it down his arms and leaving it to pool around his wrists. When Dean made a move to remove it, Castiel lightly slapped his hands. "Keep them on the desk, sir."

Dean blinked, surprised at the tone of his voice. "Uhh. OK. But I gotta tell you, Cas, this is one of my good shirts, can't go gettin' it wrinkled-" With a sigh, Castiel stopped and grabbed the tie back from the desk, tying it around Dean's mouth to gag him. He yanked Dean's head to stare straight at into his eyes.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in this office of law." After knotting the tie, Castiel's hands went to work popping the button of Dean's slacks and pulling them slowly down along with the surprisingly sensible boxer-briefs. The waistband caught on Dean's erection just before it bobbed free, already flushed and heavy with desire.

"You have the right to an orgasm. If you cannot achieve self-orgasm, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just said them to you?" He knelt to the floor, eyes never leaving Dean's, as Dean nodded jerkily. "With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?" A shake of the head.

"Too bad. I'll make you." And he swallowing Dean in one go.

"Shhhtt!" Dean mumbled, biting down on the tie. He wasn't expecting such heat and tension so soon, and the first pass of tongue over cock shocked him. Warm fingers cupped his balls and thumbs pressed into their sides. Castiel's tongue slid around the crown of his cock, curling under and massaging the vein along the bottom of the shaft.

Dean concentrated on breathing, aware of every nip and press of Castiel's teeth along the ridges, the cheeks hollowing tightly, and the hands gripping the base of his dick and trailing up and down. The muscles in Dean's thighs tensed, quivering with the exertion of holding himself up, so Castiel hefted one leg up and over shoulder and brought his hands up to cover Dean's own on the edge of the desk.

Good thing KSPD sprung for the actual wood desks and not some cheap Ikea rip-off. It was all that was keeping Dean on his feet as he was serviced quite admirably by the man at his feet. Each instinctual grasp towards the dark head bobbing up and down on him was hindered by the work shirt, tie getting damp in Dean's mouth as he breathed harshly and pressed his tongue to the cloth.

Castiel let the hard shaft slide from his mouth as his stared up at Dean through lidded eyed. "If you recall correctly... I always did have trouble with the difference between blowing-" he swiped a tongue across the slit of Dean's cock, "-and blowing off. But it seems both are applicable here, officer." He grinned ferally, dropping his jaw wide and slowly bringing the whole of Dean's cock to the back of his throat, guiding him all the way until the tender head hit the back of Castiel's throat.

This was friggin' amazing. Dean's received his fair share of blow jobs in life, and given a few in return, but this was something different. It felt taboo and sexy, and Dean was well aware of the movement of people just outside his office door, seeing flashes of color and bodies in the thin breaks of the blinds. It took everything he had to be as silent as possible, here in the dark of Bobby's office despite Castiel's vow to make him break.

Castiel himself was focused on every bit of Dean, from the skin above to the sac beneath, breathing in the scent permeating the air and feeling the pubic hair tickle his nose. He sucked harder, taking in all of Dean's length along his tongue, using the muscle to press hard into the bulging vein underneath.

"Mmmf! Nvk!" The muffled groans above signaled Dean was getting close. Castiel lightly rubbed the cop's covered hands, and moved them behind Dean's thighs to tug him off the desk. Carefully he helped slide Dean to sit on the floor, never taking his mouth away from the hot flesh. He slid back just enough to continue his deep swallows, sucking in his cheeks for the final blow.

Dean clenched his eyes tight, trying and failing to smother the shout rising in his throat. A warm hand shot up and covered his mouth over the tie, another reaching around his waist to grip his ass. He came hard, nearly striking his head on the front of his mahogany desk, while the man in front of him didn't let up until each drop was swallowed and licked clean.

Castiel pulled off with a wet pop, rising to meet Dean's flushed and sated face. "Boom," he whispered against Dean's mouth. He removed the tie, both of them breathing into each other for a second before meeting in a hard kiss. Dean could taste himself of Castiel's tongue, and if that wasn't the most erotic thing he'd ever done, he'd shoot himself in the foot.

When they pulled away, Castiel had the nerve to grin at him. "I wonder if I should call you Miranda now."

Dean lunged, hindered by the goddamn shirt, and stuck on his ass on the floor, pants still around his ankles. Castiel rose, adjusted his own tie, and rolled his shoulders back. After staring at the picture Dean made, Castiel relented and hauled him to his feet. He deftly knelt to pull Dean's slacks back up as Dean struggled to re-button the shirt. When he was as presentable as he could be without anyone knowing he'd just gotten a fucking blowjob in the Captain's office, Dean leveled a glare at Castiel.

"I _will_ get you for that. Make no mistake."

Castiel only raised an eyebrow, and backed up to open the door. "I do hope so, officer. Oh, and by the way, I would like a rain check on lunch. It seems I've already eaten."

And just like that, he slipped out as swiftly as he'd come in, hitting the lights as he vanished.

Dean blinked, feeling a laugh burst from his throat. He was still laughing when Jo came in an hour later.

"Geez, what's got you all riled up, Dean?"

"Ohhh, Jo. If you were a fly on the wall..."

*** 

Sam was eying the clock, waiting for six o'clock to send him home. He was in the middle on finalizing statements with Bobby, and additional guard arrangements were needed for tomorrow. It was the trial, and he wanted to make sure he and Dean had everything together to make it as seamless as possible. He had just begun to pack his bag when the phone on Bobby's desk rang.

"Precinct 139 Captain Singer speaking, how can I help you?"

_"Captain Singer, this is Missouri Moseley of Topeka Federal Penitentiary. I have some bad news for you, sir."_

"What is it?" Bobby reached over to hit the speaker button on the phone dock, and Sam could hear the conversation in full.

_"The van carrying Prisoner 147832 alias 'Azazel' was ambushed on it's way to the federal court house holding facility about four hours ago. The prisoner escaped and the guards assigned to him were beaten down. Looks like one was stabbed with some kind of serrated knife."_

"Shit!"

_"Shit is right, sir. And it's worse. In just the last hour during lock change, we have reason to believe the group who released Azazel turned back as a whole and made an aggressive escape attempt. The guard assigned to Prisoner 811920 alias 'Alastair' allegedly helped him escape to join the aforementioned group."_

"Fuck," Sam whispered. Both Azazel and Alastair were loose, no doubt returning to Lucifer's fold to do whatever bidding he required. They had the knife and a hell of a head start. It was only a matter of time now before they made a move, and Sam knew they wouldn't stop this time until both Dean and Castiel were dead. "I'll forward the information to the court system."

Bobby nodded, turning back to the phone dock. "Thank you, Missouri, we'll take it from here, but keep me posted personally on any progress."

_"Sir, I cannot in good conscious relay information to you unless it's a need-to-know basis when concerning a-"_

Bobby slammed his hand on the top of his desk. "Both those men tried to kill two of my officers, lady, and one of them's practically a son to me! It's definitely a need-to-know!"

There was a pause on the other line before the voice spoke more softly, _"I see. In that case, take down my personal number, if you would."_

Bobby jotted it down, thanking Missouri before hanging up. Sam dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Dean's desk line.

_"Hey Sammy, what's up? I'm about ten minutes away from endin' the day, wanna grab some dinner?"_

"Dean. I'm in Bobby's office. Both Azazel and Alastair have escaped. Bobby only now just got word from TSP about it, and it needs to be sent out to the news stations to alert the public. You need to watch out."

A string of foul curse words came over the line before it was hung up, and Sam winced at the vitriol buoying them. He turned to Bobby.

"I need to get to the courthouse to figure out our next course of action. If there's a silver lining here, it's that both of their escapes would guarantee the guilty verdict, no matter what Crowley tries."

"Let's see that snake in the grass try to fix this," the Captain replied gruffly, rummaging through his desk drawer for a familiar flask. Sam nodded, heading out of the office and nearly crashing into Dean.

"What the fuck, Sam?!"

Sam raised a hand to him. "I'm heading over to the courthouse to let them know the trial's effectively been found guilty, as it were. I'll meet you at your place in an hour or so, OK?"

"Sam, I love you no matter how you look and all, but don't come near me anymore tonight. If you're thinkin' what I am, and you are, you know that I'm a target now. Cas, too. You need to stay away or you'll get dragged in further and that ain't happenin'."

"Dean, I-"

"No, Sam. You take care of all you can on your end, and watch your back. From here on out we're doing it like the old patrol days, check in every two hours and keep yourself protected at all times. Stay here with Bobby if you gotta."

Sam sighed, hating that Dean was right. "Ok. Not a minute after each second hour, you hear? And stay safe."

"Talk to ya in two, Sammy. Love you."

"How chick-flick of you."

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk."

"All right, all right, enough peacocking, you two," came Bobby's voice from the office. Sam clapped Dean's shoulder before leaving, and Dean strode into the office as Bobby was halfway through a swig of booze.

He turned on the TV in the corner, changing it to their local news and seeing the surveillance camera footage of Alastair's escape from inside the prison. The guard in charge had struck his fellow officer, leading Alastair out a side door. The footage changed to an outside shot of a stolen police deportment van, and none other than Azazel hoping out to open the back for his comrade. Thankfully, the view was far enough away where the turnabout shooting of the guard that had helped them wasn't as graphic as it could have been.

"It's comin' to a head, Bobby. Whatever Lucifer's got planned, whatever these two assholes are gonna do next, it's comin' here and Cas and I are in the center. We gotta take action."

Bobby nodded and immediately went to work, calling on the PA for every available officer to be on watch throughout the town for signs of the men or any suspicious activity. Jo and Garth came running in, ready for work.

"Harvelle, you and Talbot head to Dean's home and set up shop, don't leave the area until we give the word. Garth, you go with Dean to Novak's place for the same. Keep to your report in times and be on watch. These guys ain't playing games no more, if you see a chance, shoot to incapacitate, or kill if threatened."

Dean chucked his house keys at Jo, telling her where the extra gun was in the house and how to best escape if needed. She nodded tersely, giving him a hug before departing to get her partner Bela.

"Boy, you keep me in the loop, you got it? Don't be a hero here. Keep yourself and your men safe."

"Yes, sir."

Grimly, Bobby thought the situation was as bad as it could be, if Dean was snapping to attention without a joke or a snide remark to follow.

*** 

They pulled up to Castiel's complex shortly after in Garth's undercover car, and Dean used the garage stairs to get to the technician's floor without being seen. When he reached Castiel's apartment, he banged on the door.

"Cas, open the door. We got a problem and I need to talk to you, buddy."

"Go away, Dean. Get out of here." The voice behind the wood sounded both angry and fearful, and Dean could hear the faint drone of a news station from the TV within. Seems Castiel already heard the news.

"I don't think so, Novak, you open this door right now and talk to me face to face like a man."

"I said leave, Dean. I don't want to see you until this situation is fixed."

"So what, you're just gonna hide in there until the big bad problem goes away? Without taking action, without taking control for your own life? That's a coward's way, man, and I didn't figure you for one."

The door flew open, and Castiel stood there in his suit and tie, hair askew and eyes wild. He gripped the door frame and jabbed a finger right into Dean's chest. "How _dare_ you call me a coward, Winchester!"

"Well, if the gun fits." Dean knew it was stupid to say, but he never could keep his mouth shut in a fight.

Castiel growled, backing the officer up until Dean was against the hallway wall. "I am not a coward! I fought this back in New York, and I paid the price for it. I wasn't just cut off from my friends and family, Dean, my cousin _died_ because of me, and I lost another once just as badly... no matter how evil they were. I left everything, I _gave up_ everything, and came here to try and find some peace. And now that's been taken away, too."

"That's not true."

"It is, Dean. I can't even go to work, where I'm surrounded by police officers. The Cage was broken into, the security demolished and the knife stolen. I can't go in there without fear that somehow they'll get in again, and I won't be able to stop them. I'm not safe anywhere... and neither are you if you stay with me."

Dean flailed, hands coming up but Castiel clenched his fists around Dean's wrists and gave him a shake. "This is something I need to fight, that I need to fix, and I will not have you get in the way and get hurt by it, Dean. Neither you or Sam or Bobby, or anyone else Lucifer thinks I care about."

"You have to let us help you, Cas, we're a team and this is better fought with-"

"No."

Dean stopped mid-sentence, staring at Castiel's dulled blue eyes. "No, we're... not a team?"

"Consider this a break-up. I can't be with you. I can't see you or even be near you until Lucifer is stopped."

Panic began to swell in Dean's chest. "Hey hey, now, wait just a minute, Novak, that's not-"

"Good-bye, Dean." Castiel dropped the wrists, turning and walking back into his apartment. He didn't even turn around as he started to close the door.

Dean stepped forward to stop the technician, to stop whatever insanity just happened, even just to stop that damn door from slamming when a large soft object came flying at his face. He caught it, finding himself staring into the little angel guinea pig from the carnival.

He looked up, stricken, and choked out a strained, "Cas..."

The door hit home, and the cold sound of the locks echoed in the empty hallway.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you've yet to read the re-edit of Chapter 13, please do so before you proceed! There's been an added plot development at the end that won't make sense from here on if you haven't seen it! Thank you!
> 
> I debated letting them be apart for a while to add tension and drama and angst like a real book or a real writer would do and then decided "Naaahhh let's make this as much a romance novel as possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

The rain falling over Lawrence during the following week did not go unnoticed by Dean. Castiel took time off from work, according to Bobby, so he couldn't see him at the precinct. Time and time again he tried calling Castiel's phone with no success, even going to his apartment only to be denied entrance by the officers Bobby sent to watch him. It was crushing, and on the day Castiel came back to work, Dean was assigned patrol duty, and couldn't even bring himself to go down to the Cage when he checked in. He left for lunch early and headed to the Roadhouse to drown his sorrows in a cold one. When he sat down at the bar, still in uniform, Ellen approached with her usual smile.

"Ahh, I know that face. What'd you do this time, champ, did Castiel make you sleep on the cou-" She stopped mid-sentence as Dean looked up, eyes dry but sad.

"Oh honey, what happened?"

"Cas, um... he decided to call it quits."

"Quits?"

"Yeah. Seems he thinks that stayin' away from everyone will keep 'em all safe, so instead of dealing with this mess he's hidin'. He cut me off last night. Closed the door on me." He didn't mention that he'd spent the night trading off lookout with Garth in the patrol car. At least guinea pigs made nice pillows.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie."

"Yeah, well, we're gonna keep on this and bring those sons of bitches down, whether Cas helps or not. What he don't know works in my favor right now."

"I don't think that's wise, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I don't got many options right now."

"I think you do. I've seen my Jo deal with enough shit on the street to know that you are all better as a unit and a team than you are alone. This is not different than any other situation where someone's targeted. The difference is, Castiel's putting his emotions first, and letting the 'what-ifs' and fear drive his actions. You need to remind him what's more important."

"And what's that?" Dean knew. He just wanted to hear it confirmed.

"Love, honey. Strength from love. Courage in the face of danger, and conviction in the pursuit of justice. It's what you and Jo and Castiel himself all vowed to do when you joined the force. You made an oath to uphold the law, and by allowing yourselves to be separated and broken down, you're letting the criminals win. Don't give them that victory."

Dean stared at Ellen, blinking back to the sudden moisture in his eyes before standing and coming around the bar to give her a strong hug. She returned it tenfold, slapping the officer on the back before shoving him towards the door.

"I don't want to see you again until you have blue-eyed man candy on your arm, Winchester."

"Yes, _ma'am_!"

Dean was back in the Impala and halfway down the road before the dust could settle.

***

The cold of the Cage was often a comfort, easily deflected by a coat if needed and a subtle reminder of home back East. These days, though, Castiel felt little joy in the day to day, and tried as hard as possible to keep from mourning his losses. Even down here he felt exposed and unsafe, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Any day now Lucifer was bound to make his move, and Castiel had no idea what to do other than run when he had the chance, Bobby's orders to remain close by be damned.

The clang of the front door alerted Castiel to the presence of another. "I will be out shortly," he called, lifting a box of confiscated fake DVDs onto the 3rd tier storage unit in the back. It was surrounded by other such items as a rack of brand-new unused clothes from a drag queen's drug raid, a few locked guns, a collection of baseball bats, and a large body-length vanity mirror stained with smears of dried blood. It was sad how many simple and unassuming items could be used for violence or pain.

"If you'd like, there are forms on the desk to start checking in your evidence," he said. No reply.

"Garth, is that you? I must have lost track of time. Is it lunch? I just need to put this box away and then perhaps we can go out to eat." The lunch bag currently sitting on his counter back home would do him no good today anyway.

"I was thinking the burger place a block away. The one that D- the one a lot of officers seem to like to much. After a few letters of suggestion, they have kindly added salads to their menu."

Castiel stepped off the ladder, dusted his hands off, and walked back to the front of the Cage, pausing when he saw the figure at the entrance. A tall, bowlegged man who stared straight back at him in silence.

"Dean." He stopped in surprise and dismay. The officer was half covered in shadow, hands in his pockets and his police badge catching the light as he breathed. Castiel regained his composure, walking forward to grab the last box from the counter.

"What are you doing down here?" Castiel didn't register that Dean still hadn't spoken a word. He took the box around the corner to the storage unit, face blazing with want and shame. As much as he hated breaking things off with Dean, this truly was for the best.

"If you need something, please fill out the proper paperwork and I can assist you. After that, I'd like you to please leave." He hefted the box up to his shoulder, climbing the small ladder and aiming it to the shelf. Just as he had it touching the rim, the lights flickered once before going black. The buzz of the security cameras died, and Castiel was startled enough to where he nearly tipped back. He caught himself, perched on the step ladder with the box teetering. Against his will, and aware of the irony of having just asking Dean to leave, he gritted out, "Shit- Dean, could you please help me?"

Footsteps slowly approached him. It was unnerving in the dark, and Castiel wasn't fond of the sensation. As if in answer to his prayers, a small emergency light blinked on, designed to shine at all times when the regular light system died. Or was turned off manually. Just as the box began to descend to the floor, a hand propped it up and shoved it completely onto the shelf. Castiel sighed, carefully stepping back down in the dim light. He backed up right into a warm body, and the hands that had caught the box made their way down his arms.

Castiel breathed out in a sudden rush of desire. He tried to turn in he circle of arms that held him but Dean kept him firmly against his chest. "Dean, please let go of me. " Castiel said, resisting the urge to lean back onto a warm police uniform shirt. Dean must have been on patrol duty today.

"No way, Novak. You had your moment of telling me off, and now it's my turn to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There is. This isn't about runnin' away and fightin' your battles alone, man. This is about teamwork, and friendship, and the oath we took to defend the helpless and stop the 'criminally inclined', as you're so political to label them. This is about fightin' for what you want and not lettin' anyone, family or no, take it away."

"We- we cannot do this."

"We can. Because I made it loud and clear that I love you, and I _ain't_ gonna give you up without a fight."

Castiel clenched his jaw, yearning to believe the words but the image of Alastair with a gun to Dean's temple flashed across his mind.

"You need to leave, I'll only bring you pain and suffering. You'll get hurt." Castiel weakly pushed at the arms around him, reveling in the feel of warm skin despite himself.

"Isn't that for me to decide? You can't take away my choice without letting me state my piece. It's worth the risk, all of it, because for the first time in my whole damn life I have somethin' worth fightin' for."

Dean turned the technician around, cupping his face with his hands.

"You are so much stronger than you think, Cas. You said it yourself, you gave up everythin' and everyone you knew back home to keep 'em safe. It takes a buttload of strength to walk away, and choose someone else over yourself. Maybe that was the right decision at the time, and I can't blame you for it 'cause it brought you to me."

He pulled Castiel in for hug, gripping him tight in the circle of light that shone above them.

"But it's different now. _You're_ different now, and you have so many people on your side who will help you. You gotta believe in that, Cas, and use it to fight back on Morning Star. You have a plan this time, you have people to help you, and you- you have me." He swallowed, pulling back and looking away briefly before bringing his eyes back to stare directly into an ocean of blue.

Castiel felt his resolve crumbling, the loneliness and pain of the last week fading in the light of the warmth in his heart at Dean's words.

"Stick with me, Cas. You were willin' to give your life for me, and I'm willin' to do the same. And no matter what happens, as long as we stay true to ourselves, then we win. 'Cause you and me are in this together."

Castiel shook his head, eyes screwed shut before launching forward and plastering his lips to Dean's.

Dean returned it tenfold, folding his fingers in Castiel's hair and wrapping his arm around the technician's back. All of their longing and heartache and even their anger went into the kiss, sliding their lips over and over inhaling the very air each other breathed.

"M'not lettin' you leave here for a bit, Novak," Dean groaned, scrunching the fabric of Castiel's dress shirt in his fist.

"At least- let me reset the circuit breaker," he made out between passes. "The grid must have-" Kiss. "-had a power surge."

"No. I turned it off," spoke the soft, deep voice against his mouth.

"What?"

"I turned it off," the voice dipped lower, and a curl of arousal started in Castiel's gut. Warm lips found his neck and began to suck tiny spots into the chords of muscle. A whiff of Dean's cologne filled his nose, his favorite, and he closed his eyes to the sensation of Dean's hands kneading his biceps.

"If anyone checks the log, they'll see that the system grid has been malfunctionin' every so often since Meg fucked with it. This'll just be another incidence of faulty wiring until it's fixed."

The arms around him unraveled, dropping away entirely from Castiel. "Stay still, Novak." The voice was commanding, and despite the warning flare of Castiel's instincts, he remained still. This was Dean. He knew he was safe, but something was up. He shifted on his feet, fighting to keep the urge to kiss the officer down.

"And why would you turn off the power grid, Dean?"

There was a jangle, and something cold clicked over Castiel wrist. He looked down, startled, but swiftly and gently, his arm was brought back down and the other wrist locked in a similar fashion. Before he could even register it in his lust-fogged brain, Dean had handcuffed his hands behind his back. Castiel started in surprise, feeling a stab of desire despite the confining position. He'd wondered before if cuffs could ever come into play somehow, but he didn't expect this.

"Because I don't want anyone to see or her what's going to happen next."

The body behind him started to walk, pushing Castiel gently in front of him until they stood in front of the vanity mirror and clothing rack. Castiel stared at their reflection, his arms braced behind him and a face dangerously smirking over his shoulder. As Castiel watched, a drunken grin sliding across the officer's face, Dean slowly unbuckled his holster and belt and set them down on the shelf of the storage unit next to the mirror. He didn't break eye contact as he yanked down a handful of dresses, lingerie, and feather boas from the clothing rack to drop on the floor in front of the mirror.

"Because you need to know that my feelings haven't changed, and that I ain't leaving you to deal with this shit alone."

Dean returned behind Castiel, gripping his biceps again and leaning in to bite at the technician's earlobe. Castiel let out a sharp cry, pushing his rear backwards into Dean's hips. There was no mistaking the hardness he felt in those thin standard issue slacks. Dean's hands wandered downward, tossing the tie over Castiel's shoulder, and working on unbuttoning the white Oxford shirt beneath it. He pulled it apart, exposing the soft cotton of the undershirt before pushing it up, up, up over Castiel's stomach to his ribs and up to collarbone. The air in the Cage was still chilly, and Castiel's nipples hardened. He swallowed, watching raptly as Mirror Dean brought his hand to his mouth and licked the fingers.

"Because I'm getting you back for the Miranda job."

Dean dragged the wet fingers over Castiel's nipples, rolling them and squeezing them carefully. He used his hands to cup under each pec, pushing them up and grinding the heels of his hands onto the areolas, massaging them up and down in rhythm to Castiel's grinding against his crotch. They moved like that for a moment, the reflection showing them each a reversal of their positions. It was surreal, seeing a second Dean and Castiel engaging in sex but feeling it happen to their own bodies.

"Because after today, when you work down here, I want you to think of me and what we are together, and not some brunette bitch who broke in and stole your confidence as well as a fuckin' knife."

Mirror Dean reached down, unbuttoning and unzipping Castiel's slacks. He slid down the length of Castiel's body, pulling the slacks and the briefs down with it, letting his half-erect cock pop free. Castiel's legs began to tremor slightly, and he stepped out from the clothes and kicked them to the side. Dean stood back up and removed his own pants, careful not to touch Castiel at all, but blowing warm air onto the back of the man's neck. He smiled, a dangerous grin that warned Castiel he wasn't through. Castiel's nerves were flaring, and he struggled against his bound wrists to try and grab Dean's erection, missing completely. Dean chuckled, taking the grasping hands and letting Castiel grab the bottom of his shirt for support instead.

"Because you kept avoiding me, and I need a little vote of trust on your part here."

Castiel gasped, biting back a groan as Dean's hands returned around him to his tie and slowly pulled down on it, dragging the two of them down to the ground. Their knees landed on the soft material of the dresses, shielding them from the hard cold Cage floor, and Dean brought the tie back around Castiel's shoulder. The cop sat back on his heels, burning green eyes meeting Castiel's dilated blue in the mirror. He reached into the front pocket of his shirt, withdrawing a small packet of lube. With ease and deliberate slowness, he tore the packet and dribble the glassy liquid onto his fingers. Castiel's legs shook harder, forcing himself to stay upright on his knees as Dean dragged the lubed fingers between his asscheeks and over Castiel's hole, pressing gently on the perineum and encircling his balls.

"So trust me, baby."

Dean squirted more lube into his hand, and lazily applied it to his dick in smooth, long strokes that covered the shaft from root to tip. He pulled Castiel back to lean back on his lap, and with careful aim, slid his cock through Castiel's cleft and against his entrance. Castiel relaxed his knees, grateful to have the weight off them, and he panted as he stared into the mirror. His reflection was lewd, cock aiming high and true against his stomach, shirt pulled up and nipples flushed red with desire. He could barely see the head of Dean's cock nestled behind his balls, and he nearly swallowed his tongue when Dean laid one hand around his waist. The other hand was searching through the pile of clothes beneath them, only to pull up a pair of brand new satin panties, tag still on, a second later.

Dean brought the panties to his teeth and ripped the tag off, spitting it out and bringing the satiny material around to cover Castiel's cock.

"There we go..."

Castiel bucked at the feeling of the cool materiel, fingers digging into Dean's stomach on reflex. He sucked in his breath, trying vainly to keep it composed and even, but Dean's nimble fingers were dragging the materiel up and down his cock, wetting it with the pre-come that had begun to bead at the tip. After a few good tugs Dean stopped his strokes, and leaned forward to hook his chin over Castiel's shoulder. He stared into the mirror, meeting Castiel's eyes and whispering, "Go for a ride."

Castiel kept his eyes firmly shut, hips moving almost against his will as he pushed himself through the cave of fingers and retreated along the hard line of flesh behind him. He couldn't even tell if the pleasure was forming from the front or the insistent butting of Dean's dick against his sac. Everything was wet, sticky, and way too hot to handle, but through it all Castiel had enough presence of mind to know that Dean was staying perfectly still, allowing Castiel to dictate the movements of his own body.

"Open your eyes, Novak. Watch what we're doing."

Castiel shook his head, laying back on Dean's shoulder when the officer surged up once from behind him, the hot flesh between Castiel's cheeks catching the rim of his hole and pushing past it to rub along his erection. Dean returned to his neutral position, gliding the hand around Castiel's waist up his chest to settle gently on his neck. Sweat had began to drip down from Castiel's forehead, catching in Dean's fingers as he rubbed soothing circles into the muscles of Castiel's throat.

"Please, Cas... look at us. Look at what we are here, what we make together."

Castiel pried his eyes open, his mouth open and panting as a curl of heat began to radiate below his stomach. He started moving again, aiming himself through the tight fist on his cock and pushing back hard on Dean's length. Dean's face in the mirror was red, glistening with sweat as he puffed against Castiel's shoulder and hovered over it, mouth agape.

"T-together, then..." he managed, releasing Dean's shirt and lowered his bound hands to graze the base of Dean's cock. The light touch became a firm grab at whatever he could reach as Dean dropped the hand at Castiel's throat to brace around his chest. He pressed his mouth to Castiel's shoulder and began to thrust again in earnest, meeting each opposing movement from Castiel with his own. It only took a few minutes, but it felt like an hour until the heat crashed like a wave on them both, Dean coming harshly beneath him. He growled out a word that sounded strongly like, "Cas-!" and bit down into the soft muscle of Castiel's shoulder.

The press of teeth through his skin and the feel of hot come hitting his balls tipped Castiel over the edge, and he joined Dean in mutual relief as he flung back his head and gripped the base of Dean's cock tight. Dean gripped the panties tightly, catching Castiel's release and saving the mirror's polished glass.

They relaxed their weights, Castiel laying prone on Dean's thighs, and struggling to catch their breaths before Dean brought a shaking hand to his shirt pocket and removed a small silver key. He quickly unlocked the cuffs from Castiel's wrists, and threw them to the side. His hands free, Castiel swung himself around and fell into Dean's lap, crushing the officer in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Please forgive me, I only wanted to keep you safe, I swear." The words were exhausted, breathed out in a wrecked and rumbled voice. "I- I hated doing it but I can't stop thinking about what could have happened if you'd been the one shot, and they won't stop... They won't stop, Dean, we have to stop them first."

Dean returned the embrace, mashing his face into Castiel's neck and sweeping his hands up and down Castiel's back. He quietly shushed Castiel's babble, knowing he only spoke so much when he was anxious, and kept his breathing slow and steady until Castiel matched the pace. He cradled the technician's head in his hand and nodded roughly.

"We'll stop this, Cas. I promise you that. Please trust me- trust in me. Just... don't leave me. Don't go someplace I can't follow." The words stuck in his throat, and Dean prayed Castiel understood what he meant.

Castiel pulled back and stared resolutely into the green eyes he adored. "I trust you, Dean. I won't leave. I won't screw up again, I won't. I can fix this."

" _We_ will fix this. Together."

The technician smiled, leaning forward to touch their foreheads. "Together."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/
> 
> So sorry this took so long to get out, and to be short at that. The last month has been rough for a variety of reasons. But the end is in sight! All mapped and outlined, just gotta tie it all together!

They emerged from the basement happy. With a kiss and a hug, Dean returned to patrol and Castiel made his way to the Captain's office, both men smiling and more relaxed than anyone had seen them for the week before. That made no difference to Bobby Singer, though. He was at his wit's end trying to spread his officers out over the city. It wasn't just the threat of two hitmen, a girl with a knife and the umbrella of Morning Star over them all that had Bobby on edge; there were still the run of the mill thefts, accidents, drunk drivers and assault-and-battery cases that happened like normal.

"Times like this I wish you were still a cop, Novak, not just an ET."

The old man sat heavily in his chair, one hand on his forehead and the other on a cup of coffee. Castiel wondered, not for the first time, if something like that could be done.

"I don't know how long it would take to arrange that situation, sir, but perhaps a more faster solution would be for me to register my license for my gun in the station's system."

"Say what?"

"I still have my license from my time in NYC. I registered it and my gun as a public citizen, as a means of personal protection. We would just need to re-log it for this state."

"Then get your ass on it! If you got that, we can spare the day cop assigned to you."

"I... erm, um... you would also be able to spare the overnight officer in charge of my apartment, sir, and just keep the one assigned to Dean's home."

"Why's that?"

Castiel cleared his throat uncomfortably "I'll be... staying there at night... until the situation has been resolved."

"Stop right there. Don't need to know anymore than that. Get back to work."

Castiel nodded, heading out of the office, but not before he caught a glimpse of Bobby pulling his flask from the bottom drawer to pour into the coffee. He smiled to himself.

At the end of the day, Castiel beat a hasty retreat, heading back to his apartment to prepare a bag. He found Ed and Harry at the complex, one snoozing and one reading a book in their patrol car. Castiel waved them over.

"There's been a change, gentlemen. I will be staying at Officer Winchester's residence until the situation has been resolved."

"Yeah, he gave us a beep on the channel," Harry replied. "Need a ride over there?"

"No thank you, I just need to eat dinner and collect a few belongings, and then I will head there."

"Well, we'll follow you just in case."

Satisfied with that plan, Castiel returned to his apartment and ate a fast meal before packing a suitcase. He wandered through the rooms, collecting essentials and putting things in order for the duration of his leaving. As he walked into the bathroom to get his toothbrush, he couldn't suppress a shiver as chilly air wafted through the open window and onto his skin. Castiel froze, instincts on high alert. He _knew_ he had closed and locked the bathroom window the night before.

Slowly but surely, the technician gathered his bags. Setting them down by the door, Castiel checked every room of the small apartment, secured each window, and upon finding himself truly alone, locked the door behind him as he left the apartment. Swiftly he made his way outside, eyes scanning the area and finding Ed and Harry exactly as he'd left them.

"Make a call to the Captain. Add this neighborhood to the patrol routes as needed. My bathroom window was unlocked and opened when I went inside; it stands to reason someone came in today, possibly Meg, and may attempt a break-in again in the future."

"Uh- oh crap! Yes sir, right away!"

Nodding in satisfaction, Castiel turned towards his car. He sat inside for a moment, hands shaking ever so slightly on the steering wheel as he worked to slow his breathing. He glanced about the interior of the car, seeing nothing strange or out of place.

 _Relax, Novak_ , he thought. _One step at a time, be vigilant, be strong._

He backed out of the complex and onto the street, giving one last glance at the little window five stories up and three squares over from the right. A dark shape seemed to sway into view briefly before melting into the side.

Swallowing tightly, Castiel left, a friendly patrol car following him to safety through the night.

*** 

_Ding dong!_

"Just a minute."

_Ding dong!_

"I said just a second!"

_Ding dong!_

"For shit's sake, what do you want?!"

Dean flung open the door, one hand gripping the top of the towel around his waist and the other moving to clench the doorframe.

Castiel stilled, taking it the sight of a half-naked, dripping wet, pissed off Winchester, and he wondered if maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Then again, the shock on Dean's face and the slipping of the towel over one hip changed that status to _this is a great idea after all._

"Cas, what- what are you doin' here, what's up?"

Dean hastily moved aside, allowing Castiel and his large duffle bag into the home.

"I informed Captain Singer that I will be staying here for the foreseeable future until we've captured Morning Star and his affiliations. It is safer, and it relieves the pressure of day and night security for two homes into one."

Dean stared, a puddle growing by his toes as Castiel rattled off very sane and very smart motives for his presence being here. "Oh, yeah, safety and all... um, lemme dress real quick and we can talk about it."

He quickly dressed in sweats and tank top, mind whirling with excitement that Castiel was pretty much going to have an open-ended slumber party until they took Lucifer down. And now that things were pretty much set between them, who knows where it would lead? Casual making out in the kitchen, fun with soap in the bathtub, sensual weed-pulling in the garden out back, the possibilities were endless!

He practically ran back to the living room, coming up short to see Castiel sitting on the couch, the little angel guinea pig in his hands. The night of their brief but no less painful break up flashed through Dean's mind, and his enthusiasm for fun times that evening waned considerably. He truly had no idea what to do or say in light of everything, but his eyes told him all he needed to know for that moment.

Castiel looked tired. His shoulders were tight, hunched over his knees as he handled the guinea pig, and his eyes looked haunted and sad. The bags by the door were full, indicating a long stay, but the needing of a hideout in the first place was scary and unknown. For all their police training and the support of the whole precinct, they couldn't predict the moves of a madman and his followers who had been known to hurt, kill and maim in order to achieve their goals. Castiel's honorable attempt at stopping Lucifer wasn't seen as business, or good versus evil, or even a challenge to the Morning Star Corporation. It was treason. It was turning your back on family, even though they had left the flock first.

Castiel was hunted. He'd done what was right and was punished for it. He'd been run out of his home, cut off from his family, pushed into distrusting everyone and attacked twice when he felt he was finally safe. The thought of it infuriated Dean beyond reason; if anyone deserved a good, loving life it was Castiel. And if he chose to live it with Dean, then the cop would be honored and humbled. The more he thought about it, the brighter and hotter that fire inside him grew, until his legs carried him away from the hallway.

Dean sat down on the couch, lightly slapping the stuffed animal out of Castiel's hold. At Castiel's indignant squawk, he guided the empty hands up and around Dean's waist. He leaned in and kissed Castiel's lightly on the lips. At the technician's questioning gaze, he leaned back and smiled.

"Talk to me."

"I'm not sure what to say, Dean."

"Say what you were thinking when I opened the door."

"Your body looks as sensuous and delicious wet as it does in your bed sheets."

"...thanks, Cas."

"I also... wanted to apologize again, in a clear state of mind."

Dean fell silent, reaching for Castiel's hand and lacing them together.

Castiel sighed, staring at their fingers. "I was wrong to have treated you shabbily, rather than discussing my fears and working with you towards a solution. I still worry, and I won't truly be all right until it's over, but I won't keep secrets from you or the other officers."

"Then we're on the same page. Now, you know what the best way to stick it to Morning Star is?"

"What?"

"It's the little things, man. Dates, hand holding, doin' your laundry and goin' to work like any other day. Showin' him you're not afraid, and that you are in control of your life. I know you haven't felt at home these last few months since New York, but no one can stop you from buildin' the one you want."

Dean rose and went to the fridge, plucking the strip of pictures from the photo booth off the front. He rummaged in the junk drawer for a pair of scissors and brought them both over to the couch. He cut the strip into two sections, putting the top half of them kissing and Dean giving Cas's chest a lick in his wallet. He handed the bottom half, Castiel's copping a feel and the two of them laughing together, into Castiel's open palm.

"Like any other couple, Cas. Now I got you next to me all the time. Well, next to my ass, I guess, that's where I keep my wallet." He snickered, sliding the wallet back into his rear pocket. Castiel looked at his portion, touching the final photo tenderly. Just a moment in time, but they had been happy, embarking on the first steps of their new relationship. If Castiel wanted to continue that, he had to be constant in his convictions and stay true to himself.

He removed his trenchcoat, hanging it up on the coat hooks and gently placed the photos in the inner breast pocket. He returned to the couch and sat in Dean's lap, dragging his fingers through Dean's short locks and kissing him fervently.

"There are other things that can go next to your ass, Dean."

"Indeed. You better be one of them."

Dean hefted them both up off the couch, shoving Castiel towards the bedroom and quickly going about the house to lock up. He snagged Castiel's bag from the front door and brought it into the bedroom. Castiel was unbuttoning his dress shirt, suit jacket already removed and hanging off the desk chair. Dean tossed the duffle on the bed, grinning, and he slid up behind Castiel to undo his tie. He dragged it through Castiel's collar, chucking it over the headboard of the bed ("Maybe tomorrow...") and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. No sense in smelling like the garlic bread from dinner if he was hoping for morning kisses. Or more.

He hit the lights on the way out, eyes and ears adjusting to the faint glow of moonlight through the curtains and the white noise of crickets outside. Castiel was already beneath the sheets, head resting on the pillow and blue eyes trained on Dean's form. He slid closer as the officer tucked himself in, and the two men quietly found a comfortable position to sleep in.

Dean carded his fingers through Castiel's hair, humming a few bars from "Hey Jude" as their breathing began to slow. Just before Castiel felt himself drift away, he heard the rumbling whisper against his temple.

"This could be home, too, Cas... if you want it to be."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Castiel awoke to a sharp thought of _Warning!_ , a sense that something was not correct in the house. He looked about the room carefully, taking in the black lumps of clothing on the floor, the new angle of moonlight streaming on the carpet, and the muted red of the clock on the dresser reading just past 6am. Slowly, Castiel eased himself from the covers and Dean's arms, sliding his pillow into the space left behind. Dean tugged it closer, pressing his face into the soft down and sighing in his sleep. He looked younger, resting deeply for perhaps the first time since the ill-fated break-up, Castiel thought guiltily. Leaning forward, he kissed Dean's forehead, cupping the face and brushing his thumb across a fine cheekbone.

Castiel began to pick up their discarded clothing, making his way out to the kitchen and the adjacent laundry room. As he sorted through them to toss in the washer, his phone lit up silently from the pocket of his pants. He rummaged through the it until he could bring the phone up, a text from an unknown number blaring across the screen.

**Look out your window.**

Castiel paused, slowly edging back into the kitchen and peeking through the blinds over the sink. A nondescript black car sat beneath a light post, the driver leaning casually against the door. She brought her head around to stare at the house- no, at the kitchen window- and crooked a finger in invitation. Castiel stilled, watching the brunette urge him over. He lowered the slat, stepping back open the phone. It lit up in his hand, the same unknown number now calling him. He clicked answer, and brought it to his ear.

_"Be silent. The morons assigned to watch you are out for the count. My girl Ruby out there is waiting for you, so dress your ass and get out there."_

Castiel whirled around, opened his mouth to call out to Dean.

_"Ah ah ah! If you dare to make a sound I won't hesitate to shoot Winchester right through his pretty mouth. He was stupid, leaving his gun in the bedroom out of reach, buddy."_

A sickening thud beat within Castiel's chest. _Fuck_ , he thought, _the gun_. Dean's holster, sitting on the dresser out of reach, next to the bathroom door... oh. Castiel _had_ been foolish, and his ignorance was coming back to bite him. That dark shape in the window of his apartment... it had to have been Meg, coming in and out through his own bathroom window, waiting to follow him and catch him off guard. And now with the help of this Ruby woman, they'd managed to corner Castiel, taking out Ed and Harry and threatening Dean.

 _"I can hear the gears in your brain, Novak. And yes... I am right here, sitting pretty in Winchester's itty bitty bathroom, his itty bitty gun aimed right at him. I_ will _shoot, unless you move it."_

Castiel's mind raced, trying to figure out something in the barest of minutes he had left. He thought of his own gun, nestled in the pocket of his trenchcoat on the coat hooks. He didn't dare try to use it, not with Ruby watching him and the chance of Dean getting in the crossfire. Dean, sound asleep and unaware of the danger. He thought about the GPS in his phone, to lead Dean to wherever these women would take him, but he knew Lucifer would destroy it the minute he saw it. That left one chance. He moved away from the kitchen into the living room, a brief patch of unseen territory from outside, and quickly tapped out a few buttons on his phone's call screen. Hoping it was out of Ruby's sight.

Castiel went back into the bedroom, moving slowly to not wake Dean, and eyeing the dark bathroom. He couldn't see anything, but he knew Meg was there, gun trained on Dean and ready- maybe even eager- to correct any mistake Castiel would make. He breathed carefully, donning his slacks and shirt, and edged towards the bed to retrieve his tie from the headboard. As he leaned over Dean to pull it off, he carefully slid his phone into Dean's open hand beneath the pillow. He stood back, tying the tie and watching Dean's face, memorizing every soft line and ridge, the flutter of his eyelashes, and the rise and fall of a muscled chest. If this was the last time he'd see the man, he would take the sight of him however he could.

He must have stood there for a minute, simply staring, when the low click of the gun cocking shook him out of his reverie. He turned and walked out of the room, not looking back, and opened the front door. The urge to grab his coat, his gun, was overwhelming. His throat was closing over, crushing the screams and terror of being taken away, that Meg would renege her deal and shoot Dean through the heart. He had to believe it would be OK. If not for himself, then for the man upstairs who'd told Castiel, countless time, that he loved him.

Ruby was still at her car, a feline grin spreading across her mouth. She opened the backseat door, gesturing grandly for Castiel enter like he mattered. Castiel paused, staring at the dark car, before turning around and looking at the window to Dean's bedroom. Meg was there, ensuring his cooperation, standing so close to Dean that Castiel felt sickness burn his gut. He'd heard no gunshots, no shouts, nothing to indicate Dean was awake. Or dead.

 _You can do this_ , he thought. _No more running._

He got into the car, and the door slammed shut with a harsh finality. Ruby his the gas and turned about to pull up behind the Impala. Meg sauntered out the front door, leaving it wide open in her wake, before sliding into the passenger seat upfront.

"Good boy, Novak. As promised, Winchester sleeps on, unaware that you've abandoned him."

Castiel glared at the rear view mirror, and Ruby laughed.

"Then again, Meg, who are we to not leave a mark where we travel?"

Meg nodded, and rolled down her window. Ruby opened the door and got out enough to lean over the hood of the car. Castiel inhaled sharply, eyes flying to the bedroom window, but the women aimed two identical guns at the Impala, and fired. The sound of four tires popping was deafening, the shattering of glass ringing along Castiel's eardrums, and a long line of bullet holes marred the trunk's surface.

When the carnage was done, Ruby swung back into the seat and floored the gas, taking them far away from the peace and warm safety of the Winchester home

*** 

_Dean is dreaming. He has to be. He is in his backyard, the summer sun bright overhead, and Sammy is at the grill making steaks. A cold beer is in his hand, and the laughter of Bobby and his coworkers is mingling with the soft sounds of rock music coming from the old boom box his Dad had bought when Dean was 8. Garth is dancing. He never dances. And Cas... Cas is sitting next to him, hands warm on his neck and knee, smiling. He's saying something, and Dean has to lean forward to make it out._

_"What was that, Cas?"_

_"Dean," the vision of Cas is starting to waver, eyes turning worrisome, and the hands on him are tightening in Cas's grip. "It comes from the east before sunrise."_

_"What does? Cas? Cas!" A low boom rumbles through the ground beneath his feet._

_The dream is collapsing, fire from the grill rising up to engulf Sam. The laughing group of friends begins to fall through cracks in the ground, and in the distance Dean can hear the barking of dogs. From out of the house they come, frothing at the mouth and diving on Castiel, burying him beneath their weight. Dean is frozen, his entire body straining to move, to push Sammy out of the fire, to pull Jo back up from the pit of his lawn, to drag Cas out of the pile of dogs. He can see Cas's hand, reaching for him, but the largest dog with eyes red and teeth bared dives for his neck, and the hand goes slack. Dean tries to scream but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is the sound of gunshots._

Dean was jolted awake, his mind slugging out of the dream to realize those gunshots were real. For a moment he has no idea what to think, but his years of police work send a barrage of information to his brain. There was a pillow in his face, the faint trace of Castiel's shampoo lingering on the linen. The space beside him was cold and empty. It was nearly 10am, and there was no smell of coffee or bacon or pancakes in the air. Their clothes were gone from the bedroom floor. The bathroom door and window were wide open, and Dean knew- he _knew_ that if he called out to Castiel right now, he'd get no reply. He felt blank for the smallest second, unsure what thought to allow in his head, when he sat up and felt the item in his hand.

It was Castiel's phone, set on lock, but across the front of it were the numbers 207.

The gunshots.

Dean was out of bed and through the hallway, the light breeze of the day wafting through the open front door. Castiel's coat was still hung up, his gun a bulge in the front pocket. He barreled outside, half expecting to see Castiel on the ground, or standing over a body, but his eyes are met with the attempted murder of his beloved Impala. A string of curses flew from his mouth as he ran his hands over the car.

"Oh shit shit shit, oh Baby! Oh fuck, who did this to you?! Fuck! Cas! _Cas!_ "

He was met with silence, and the sickening knowledge that Castiel was gone. Taken.

***

"Want to hear some tunes, Clarence? Soft rock, country, NPR?"

"No."

"Aw, you leave it up to us, we'll probably torture you with teen pop and Spanish novellas all the way to the warehouse."

"Are you not going to blindfold me? Keep where we're going a secret?"

"Why bother?" Ruby asked, drumming her fingers on the wheel. "Not like you'd be able to tell anyone where you are. And you sure as shit aren't getting out to find anyone, once Mr. Morning Star gets there."

Ah. So Lucifer was going to do the job of killing Castiel himself. He always said to keep it in the family. Castiel sighed, despair threatening to creep up on him. He had nothing; no weapon, no phone, no way of letting Dean know where he was other than the phone message. He had no guarantee that they'd leave Dean or Sam or the other officers alone, that they wouldn't go after them and hurt them for involving themselves in the first place. All of Castiel's fears were validated in the backseat of the car, and he felt as helpless as ever. Could he possibly get out of this? Would he ever see Dean again, or Sam, or Bobby, or anyone else he'd grown to care about? The grief was growing behind his eyes... he'd never even told Dean how much he-

"All right, sunshine, out of the car."

Meg's voice kept it's light air, but her words were business, and they'd arrived at one of the dilapidated warehouse in the industry section of town. Other than a general sweep by security maybe once a day, the place was deserted, and only the homeless and petty criminals bothered with the area.

He dragged himself out of the car, and Meg aimed her gun in his back as he was forced to walk towards the warehouse. A couple of very familiar thugs in suits were standing at the entrance, grinning at him.

"Just in time. The boss is waiting for you," one of them spoke. His buddy laughed, bloodlust in his eyes. Castiel looked up at the sky one last time, the bright sun shining happily on the unsuspecting world below it. He thought of the carnival, the Cage, the diner, the Roadhouse that first night he gave Dean a chance.

"Oh, just a minute." Meg held up her hand, reaching into the front of her blouse to pull out two small squares. "I think we ought to send Winchester a little message, letting him know just how short his time really is."

Ruby nodded sagely, withdrawing Azazel's knife from a side holster, and the two thugs each grabbed one of Castiel's arms. He bucked on instinct, shying away as the knife came closer, and his face was held still in a meaty grip. Ruby was smiling, licking her lips as she brought the knife up to eye level.

"Don't worry, Clarence, the real fun is waiting inside. Think of this as foreplay. Oh and please, do feel free to vocally express yourself."

Castiel gnashed his teeth together, refusing to make a sound, as the knife pressed into his skin.

*** 

_"Boy, you get over here this instant."_

"No time, Bobby."

_"Don't you pull that on me, you idjit, you get over here and we do this right."_

"Then consider this my resignation."

_"Damn it, Dean!"_

"If I don't act now, Cas could die. Bringin' in more cops will set Morning Star off, and who knows what'll happen then."

_"You ain't authorized to do shit, boy, even if you do find 'em. Can you be sure Novak was taken?"_

"If the murder of my car didn't send the message, then Cas's phone with 207 on it sure as shit did. That's kidnappin' code, you know that. And I went to Cas's apartment."

"Anything there?"

"Yeah..." Dean swallowed tightly. "Me and Cas went to a carnival a while back, did that cheesy photobooth crap. Got a strip of pictures, and I gave him two, and he'd put them in his coat. Found them at the apartment, blood all over them. It's a message."

He huffed out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and his finger tightened on the steering wheel of Ed and Harry's patrol unit. When he'd found them, unconscious on the side of the house, he'd dragged them side and took the keys.

"The only lead I can think of is Skid Row. The bums there see everything, and I bet I can make someone talk with a little persuasion."

_"OK... that I can allow. But if you find a lead on where Novak is, tell us first so we can backup."_

"Fine, Bobby, you got it."

Dean hung up, unsure if he just told a lie or not. It'd been hours since Castiel was taken, and the only clue he had were the people on skid row who saw everything and said nothing. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but he hoped his badge and his gun could loosen a tongue or two and see if anyone saw something.

The bloody pictures were crammed into his back pocket, a constant reminder of how bad the situation was. If he got Cas out of this alive, he was handcuffing him to the house and never letting him leave.

Skid Row was the south part of town, edging up to the east but not too close to the center. Dean drove by, eyeing the loiterers and clumps of shady characters, but each time he came near they dispersed into thin air. How the hell was he going to find someone to talk to, when everyone know cops meant a night in jail? After an hour of trying, he gave up and parked on the side of the road, head resting on the steering wheel.

_Tap. Tap._

What the fuck is that?

_Tap. Tap._

He looked up. A woman was huddling in the alleyway next to his car, chucking small rocks and pebbles at the window. Her ridiculously red hair caught the sun, clashing with the dirty green overcoat she wore over a ratted dress and slumping socks. Dean chuckled despite himself; only Nancy could attract that kind of attention. His grin faded as she waved him over urgently, eyes darting to the side. He glanced about as well, making sure no one saw him approach her. The only thing worse than getting caught by a cop was talking to one willingly, and narcs didn't last long in Skid Row.

"Nancy," he murmured, tucking himself into the darkness of the alley. "What can I do for you?"

"S'more like what I can do for you instead." Dean forced his face into neutral as Nancy's putrid breath wafted across his face. "But it ain't for free, you roller."

Dean sighed, already reaching into his wallet. He doubted Nancy even knew what she was going to say, but he could part with a twenty if it meant she ate today. He passed the bill into her hand, and she pocketed it greedily.

"All right. All right then. I like you, Winchester, always did. You don't pick on us bums or make us leave when we ain't hurting no one. And I seen you about town, all smiling and actually happy. Happiness is important in the world, you know."

"Yeah, Nancy, I know. What could you help me with?"

"Well, see, I was out foraging, as it were, in the alleys up near Pennywhistle Street, off the east side of town that no one goes to in daytime, so it's plum pickings for me, and this car I ain't never seen afore comes roaring down fast like. I hid behind the old toy factory, you know the one what's haunted?"

"Yes, Chucky lives there, I know. You saw him."

Nancy sneered, fingering her jacket and sticking her middle finger up at a stray cat in the back of the alley.

"Damn right I did, little bastard trying to steal my hair and make out with Satan... anyway, I seen this car go up to the last warehouse in the road, the one what made them cat food back in the day? And these fancy bits get out, and there's these ugly rats in fancy suits was waiting for them and then they drag out the man you know."

"What?" Dean jerked his head back to Nancy, eyes wide.

"Yeah, the fancy one with them blue eyes, the one you step with, he was there, but it weren't consensual. I learned that word the other day, still learning, don't need no school, school is for communists. We're being watched, I know it!"

Dean lunged forward. grabbing Nancy's arms and making her look at him. She squeaked in surprise.

"Nancy... I will buy you lunch every day for a month if you say you're telling me the truth. You saw these people with the man I've been with the last few months, dark hair, blue eyes, wearing a shirt and tie?"

Nancy nodded, eyes going sad. "Yeah. They cut him, you know. Made him bleed. Then they took him inside I left, cause I didn't want no cuts on me, no sir."

Dean nodded absently, mind racing. The memory of his dream came flooding back.

_It comes from the east before sunrise._

Morning Star was in the east part of town, in the old industry warehouses. He was here, and he had Cas.

"Thank you, Nancy, thank you. I promise you, I'll keep my word and take you out every day but I gotta run."

He left her, hopping back into his car and speeding off. Nancy grinned, imagining the buffet of wonders that awaited her when this all blew over. She turned and screamed down the alley at the cat in the dumpster. "I told you he'd believe me! 'Cause I got honesty coming out my tits, you mangy wizard!"

She laughed, and turned back to the road and watching Dean's car disappear down the street. Her grin faded into the creased lines of worry.

"Good luck, asshole," she whispered to herself.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

"Really, Castiel, I'm disappointed in you." Lucifer examined his hand, smooth and manicured, as another punch was thrown. He withdrew a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.

 _Thwack_. The first came hard and fast from the left, cuffing Castiel's eye.

"Of all the places for self-imposed exile, you choose the _Sunflower State_? That's so typical of you, given your nature. To pick the weirdest one out of fifty." He sidestepped the small puddles of blood on the floor as Castiel coughed.

 _Thwack_. That one landed hard on his ribs.

"And not only do you and your little mystery gang of friends take out my men at each turn, what do I find when I get here? After soiling myself by coming to this podunk hillbilly town? You, shacking up with a fellow cop and making it your damn mission from God to bring me in."

Lucifer placed a foot on Castiel's shaking thigh, pressing the expensive loafer into the muscle.

"You should have kept running, cousin."

Carefully he wiped the blood away from Castiel's swollen eye, dragging it down to his mouth.

"No," the words were gritted out. "I'm not running anymore... this ends today."

Lucifer sighed, looking almost sad as he nodded. "Indeed it does. I expect your knight in shining polyester to come save the day anytime now. Meg's already delivered my message." He surveyed the man before him, the blossoming bruises on his jaw and the sluggishly bleeding slice on his cheek.

"My my, Ruby sure did a number on your face. Looks like I'm the fairest one of all again." He nodded towards the thugs from outside. "And now we've come full circle. You remember Azazel, right? Finally reunited with his knife again." Azazel slowly stroked the side holster where his knife was tucked, the blood from Ruby's attack on Castiel's face dried to a rusty brown on its blade.

"And of course, our favorite little spitfire Alastair. Let me tell you, Cassie, he just can't _wait_ to see your loverboy again." Alastair nodded, grinning and cracking his fists as Lucifer chuckled. It was cut short when Castiel spit, a watery blob of blood landing on his shoe. Lucifer stared at it, mouth hardening. "Never could stop that mouth from moving, could you? Boys, please show my dear cousin the extent of our hospitality while we wait for Winchester to arrive."

Castiel swallowed hard, closing his eyes and bracing himself as Alastair snickered and landed another swift kick to his shins. Almost minutely, he worked his wrists against the blood-soaked ropes. They moved, loosening slowly but surely. Thank God Azazel couldn't tie knots for shit.

*** 

Precinct 139 was organized chaos. All officers were at their limit fielding calls and paperwork, as Captain Singer had requested his top men to meet in his office "right friggin' now!" Jo and Garth were at the helm, flanking Bobby on either side of his desk.

"We got an 11-99, that means we got one chance to do this, kids, so we can't screw it up. Winchester just called, said he was heading to the Industry district, and that Morning Star is there with Novak. This is big coup to bring that bastard in, so I need everyone on guard and armed."

Sam was there, rifling through his briefcase to pull out a rolled up sheet of paper.

"I was able to get a copy of the blueprints for the warehouse Dean mentioned." Bobby laid out the copy of the warehouse in question, marking on it's surface where each officer would go.

"Harevlle, I want you and Fitz to be at the rear end of the warehouse by the loading docks. Incapacitate anyone fleeing unless you can tell their friendlies. Zeddmore, you and Spangler will be up at the switchback in front of the warehouse. Don't snipe unless needed. The rest of you, fall back into flank positions and don't make a move until Winchester gives you the signal. His earpiece is channel 6, listen for cues and follow orders."

Bobby rose, giving his hands a sharp clap.

"I don't if he's dead or alive, we're bringing him in. No heroics, get our boys out safe and watch each other's backs. Let's move out!"

*** 

Dean's fingers were tingling as he moved in an agonizingly slow crawl around the warehouse. He'd ditched Ed's car a mile back, working his way through the copse of trees marking the boundary of the dilapidated warehouses to end up at the one Nancy said she'd seen. It wasn't the worst in terms of condition, which meant it was safe enough to be inside but not serviceable enough to warrant any kind of human presence. Crouched down between discarded crates, he sent up a silent thanks for small miracles as he peered through the window, obscured by dirt and grime along the slightly broken glass.

Ruby and Meg were sitting near a doorway talking, and Dean could just make out figures in the background moving about. He quietly tapped a few words of code and key phrases into his cell, alerting Bobby to his plans. After a moment's thought, he send a brief text to Sam as well, outlining the plan and demanding that he take care of Baby, just in case. Dean couldn't deny that it was one of the hardest things he'd ever have to do.

After a few moments, his radio lit up in confirmation, and Dean gazed out over the trees. The barest movement flickered from them, and Dean was relieved that backup had arrived. He sent one more call - **REMAIN IN POSITION UNTIL I PRESS THE BUTTON** \- and waited anxiously for the return.

Once it was confirmed, Dean made his move.

He slipped along the wall towards the doorway, ears open for any scuffling of feet or harried cry of alarm. He carefully angled a shard of glass from the broken window around the doorframe to peer inside, and saw Meg stand to move away and out of sight. Dean grinned darkly; two opponents were one thing, but he could easily take out one.

He positioned his feet, pushing off the ground and into the warehouse, aiming straight for Ruby and catching her off guard. She opened her mouth to scream but Dean aimed a sharp jab at her throat, catching the side of her neck and pressing down into the flesh. Her blood flow was cut long enough to stun her, and though it pained him to hurt a woman, Dean brought his hand down on the back of her head to knock her out. Ruby dropped harshly, with barely a sound.

Dean moved around her to peer at the group of people in the center of the warehouse. He froze.

"Cas..."

The technician was slumped over in a chair, tied at the hands. Blood stained his shirt and tie, and there was more on the floor. Dean couldn't see his face in the shadows, and if it weren't for the stuttering rise and fall of his chest, Dean thought he might be dead. He clenched his teeth, willing himself to calm down. Then he felt the cool press of a gun at the back of his head.

"Move, Winchester." That bitch Meg had him. Dean swore at himself for being distracted. He raised his arms above his head and walked out into the clearing. Meg kept a firm grip on the gun as she maneuvered him to kneel before Castiel, just close enough to see the extent of their handiwork on him but not to do anything about it. With one hand she began to rifle through Dean's pockets, removing his badge, his gun, his radio and his wallet. She deftly flipped opened the wallet to see the cash inside, and pulled out the bloodied photo booth pictures with her teeth. Dropping the wallet, she took the pictures and held them up high.

"Shucks, boys, it seems we were right!" Meg called out, jamming the muzzle of the gun hard into Dean's neck.

The sharp clack of thousand-dollar shoes echoed off the walls of the warehouse as Lucifer strode into view, Azazel and Alastair flanking him. "You're late, Winchester. We had a bet to see on when you'd get here, and you're about twenty minutes off the mark."

The came to a stop in front of Dean, and blocked his view of Castiel. "Yeah, well, fashionably late goes over well in most parties, don't it, Milton?"

Lucifer grimaced, jerking Dean's chin up. "I dislike that name." He tipped Dean's face back and forth, eyes roving over dirty freckles and furious green eyes.

"But I suppose better late than never, right? I'd half thought you wouldn't bother coming at all. I mean, why bother sticking your neck out for anyone when it would absolutely end in death? But the vocal support from my boys here and Meg and Ruby all said you'd come." Lucifer smiled, slapping Dean's face and moving out of view. "I guess my little cousin here had you leashed from the start, right?"

Dean winced, shaking his head to clear it. A hand came to force his chin back up. Lucifer stood behind Castiel, petting his hair gently. He was looking down at him, the smirk gone from his face.

"He was always my favorite, you know. Kind, loving, and earnest to a fault. But that damn honesty..." His grip tightened in Castiel's hair, raising his head up on a groan. Lucifer leaned down to put his mouth to the man's ear. "That honesty cost me nearly _everything_!" He screamed the word, shoving Castiel away so hard he tipped over and hit the ground. Blue eyes opened in shock and pain as he awoke from unconsciousness.

Dean jerked forward, but Azazel's and Alastair's grips on his arms kept him grounded. "Cas!"

"Dean...?" Their eyes met as Castiel sluggishly turned to Dean's voice, shock and awe and something else brightening the dull overlay. Dean nodded slightly, a smile uncontrollably crossing his face.

"I'm right here, Cas. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"I should say not. Boys, take him out back and show him what it means to fuck with me. Then get the car ready for a scenic drive to the river." Azazel withdrew his knife, and he and Alastair yanked Dean to his feet. They laughed at the prospect of murder. Lucifer turned to leave, looking over his shoulder at Meg and sighing in what seemed to be genuine regret. "And Meg... shoot him."

Meg nodded, removing the gun from Dean's head to aim at Castiel.

Dean moved on instinct, slamming his head back and catching Meg full in the forehead. She fell, gun shooting wildly in the air and bouncing of the metal wall. Azazel jumped back wildly, dropping the knife and covering his head, while Dean took the chance and lunged his full weight at Alastair, taking them the ground. They fought, swinging punches and rolling about the floor. He pinned the man down with a harsh punch to the head, and leapt back up to go for Lucifer. The man threw a punch, and Dean ducked just long enough to roundhouse kick him the stomach, sending him wheezing to the floor. Strong arms encircled Dean's waist as Alastair yanked him back into their own fray.

On the floor, Castiel struggled valiantly, finally slipping a hand free from his bonds. He dragged himself, chair and all, over to Azazel's knife and snatched it to cut himself free from the ropes. Just as the twine snapped, Azazel attacked. Hands came to squeeze hard around Castiel's throat, but Castiel was faster, and brought the knife up to stab Azazel in the back. Azazel seized, eyes wide as he slumped atop the technician. Castiel crawled out from under him, gasping for breath, and Azazel's eyes tracked him. He made not a sound nor a move, and with a sinking feeling Castiel realized he had nicked, or possibly severed, Azazel's spinal chord.

He pulled himself up on shaking feet, and moved towards the two bodies wrestling in a life or death battle. When Alastair rolled them to pin Dean to the ground, Castiel struck, bringing his foot up hard into Alastair's kidney. He spun into his momentum, and landed a kick upside his head. Dean took the chance and kneed him straight in the balls before jerking his body to the side. Castiel finished the job, slamming Alastair's head into the ground. He stopped moving.

Dean kicked him aside, and sat for a moment on the ground. Everything fell away as he looked up at Castiel, brave stupid Castiel limping from his knee and breathing with adrenaline. Despite their exhaustion, they smiled at each other, and Castiel felt his shoulders slump in relief. He swayed on his feet, feeling blackness prickle at the edges of his eyes.

"Dean..." he murmured.

He had just reached his hand out to the cop when Lucifer made his move, lunging forward and grabbing the back of Castiel's collar. He yanked hard, pulling the man to him and adjusting his fist into the navy blue tie. Castiel gagged. Slow and graceful, Lucifer drew a gun and aimed it at Castiel's head, pulling the tie tight around the technician's throat. "Now, now, officer. I'd advise you to stop unless you want a fresh coat of blood on the wall." He started moving backwards, towards a door in the corner, forcing Castiel to stumble backwards as he vainly struggled against the tie.

Dean stood, raising his arms. "Don't do anythin' rash, Milton. It's just down to us; your lackeys are gone and I'm right here where you want me."

"Ah, see, that's where once again you've made a stupid mistake, Winchester. It was never about _you_." Fast a snake, he swung his gun towards Dean and shot. It hit Dean hard in the shoulder, and he fell.

Lucifer kicked the door open, keeping Castiel firmly at his chest and gun at his temple. "Any last words for your dear boy in blue, cousin?" He twisted his hold on Castiel, allowing him to face Dean.

Castiel opened his eyes, exhaustion weighing down every breath. There was blood streaming from his forehead again and his mouth felt cottony and slack, but he stared clear and true into beautiful green. "Dean... I love you, Dean... I..." He trailed off, slumping in Lucifer's hold only to jerk back when he nearly choked himself on his tie.

Dean froze, eyes wide at the declaration.

"Aww, how sweet. I do love a tragic romance." Sneering at the wide-eyed officer, Lucifer backed through the door and dragged a stumbling Castiel out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! We're almost done, and I'll be able to tackle it MUCH sooner now!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Dean gritted his teeth against the pain, pressing his hand harshly to the bullet wound on his shoulder. He stumbled to where Meg had dropped his radio, grabbing it with shaking hands and pressing the big red button on the underside. He hit the 'message' dial and make an all-call.

_"Damn it, boy, what the hell happened?!"_

"Morning Star got a shot off me and took Cas out back."

 _"Can't you idjits go one day without getting a bullet put in ya?"_ Dean grimaced and looked at his arm. The bullet had hit through the topmost part of his shoulder, tearing a strip of flesh out of it. He flexed his arm, wincing. It hurt like a fucker, but he was mobile, and the blood could be stopped.

"It grazed me, Bobby, I'm fine. I'm goin' after them, but send the troops in to clean up this mess. I got four bodies in here and I don't even know if any are alive at this point."

"Roger that - I'm seeing a distress call coming in from Jo's radio, she's out in the back by the loading docks. Check with her and then go."

Dean silenced the call, grabbing his gun from the floor and running outside. Jo and Garth were there, unharmed, but shaken. A solid black car had just disappeared over the horizon of the road.

"Dean, that asshole just left, he had Castiel with a gun to his head. Threatened to shoot him if we didn't let him go. I-I'm sorry." Jo was pissed, and there was guilt in her eyes. Garth zeroed in on his arm and immediately began to remove his tie.

"Don't worry, kiddo, you did the right thing. This way I still got a chance. Gimmie your car keys; I'm goin' after them. Stick to the drill, keep Sam updated, and- JESUS, OW THAT HURTS!" Dean howled as Garth tightened the tie around his shoulder, staunching the blood and keeping the split flesh together.

"At least it's your left arm, right?" Garth smiled weakly, taking a step or two back.

Dean mumbled something under his breath, and took the keys from Jo's waiting hand. "Wait for my call, Jo." She nodded, a simple _good luck_ on her tongue. Dean clambered into the patrol car, willing his arm to move despite the pain. He glanced back at Jo's scared face. "I promise you, one way or another... I'll be back. And I'm bringin' Cas with me."

*** 

Castiel leaned heavily against the car door, the window glass cool against his aching forehead. He drifted in and out of unconsciousness, forced with each bump and pothole in the road. A flurry of sounds met his ears, from the incoherent cursing of his cousin to the far-off, almost dreamlike voice of Dean. He'd even swear he felt those calloused hands touching his face, pushing his hair back. Castiel almost didn't care if it was an illusion.

The world was jarred back when the door beneath his head opened, and Castiel spilled out of the car to the wet gravel below.

He groaned, coming alert as Lucifer grabbed his arm and started dragging him across the asphalt. He heard a strange sound burbling in his ears as he tried to focus on his surroundings, blinking harshly at the midday sun. A brief moment of disbelief colored his world as he saw, further down the path behind Luicfer's car, the shiny exterior of a Lawrence police car stop at the edge of the woods. Lucifer's calm voice cut through the din.

"You... why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it have been someone I hated?"

Castiel was chucked up against concrete, landing hard on his back and stunning the breath from him. The burbling sound grew louder, and he peered to his side to see a design shape through the stone. It was the Kaw Valley bridge. Below him, the Kansas river was pulsing strong.

"You were always a good boy, Castiel. Always. Why did you throw that away? Are you truly so selfish that you don't care about family? About blood?"

Castiel turned to face him, his breath coming out in a wheeze. "I care about the innocent... the people who've done nothing to you... but you see them as a threat and eliminate them..." He coughed. "What about their families, their lives?" He cut off on a wince, muscles spasming in his broken body.

"You are not worth more... then they..." he finished quietly.

Lucifer was silent, staring down at him with a blank expression. The wind rustled through his blonde hair, and he turned to the side as if he'd heard something from the trees. After a second, he approached Castiel and leaned down to hoist the man up from the ground by his arm and onto the ledge of the bridge. He steadied the technician with a grip on his throat, and Castiel barely had the fortitude to grasp at it. He could still breath, but his cousin's fingers were twitching. Castiel couldn't tell if the rushing sound in his head was blood or the water below him.

"Lucifer. Don't."

Both men turned to the voice by the car. Dean stood there, his arm reddened from blood and his frame shaking.

"Please don't do this. He's family."

"But whose?" Lucifer asked, and the sincerity was unnerving. "You truly consider him one of your own? This man who values the greater good over his own kin?"

Dean nodded, advanced slowly towards them until he was within arm's reach. "Yeah, I do. Give him back to me. It's over, man."

Lucifer seemed to blank out, his muscles relaxing and his breath coming out in a sigh. He turned to look at his cousin in his eyes, and calmly let go of his throat. Castiel gasped, coughing as he breathed in air and Lucifer waited a second more before shoving him off the bridge. Castiel's hands reached out and grabbed Lucifer's suit, dragging him over the lip with him.

_"Cas!"_

Dean darted forward, pulling out his radio and hitting the emergency GPS button before dropping it to the ground and diving over the edge. All three men fell gracelessly into the Kansas River. As Dean hit the water, he saw Lucifer strike the rocks along the water's edge, and Castiel went completely under. He swam as best he could, grateful that the water was still, and when his fingers grazed a solid body he grabbed it and pulled. Together, they fought the rush of the river and crawled out onto the bank. Dean yanked Castiel upwards, forced his face into Dean's chest to hide him from view of his cousin.

They sat there, shivering, holding each other tightly as sirens wailed in the distance. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, wiping away river water and concentrating on breathing steadily as his hands roved over Castiel's back.

"Dean..." murmured a voice near his heart.

"What, baby?" his own voice whispered back.

"Dean... do you remember... when we first met...?"

"I do."

"Do you remember... what I called you?" Clammy hands encircled Dean's waist and held on tight.

"Yeah. You said I was crass."

"And I thought... you were rude as well."

"I was. I'm sorry, Cas." He pressed kisses into Castiel's hair, folding their legs together as red and blue lights began to dance off the bridge overhead.

"You are still both those things."

Dean's throat broke out a laugh, and he shook until his arm protested in pain.

"I'm sorry, Dean... I can't stay awake..."

"Hehe... that again, huh? Go on, I got you, Cas. I got you."

Castiel sighed in relief as he let his body shut down, passing out in a heavy lump on Dean's lap. Shouts were called up on the hill as Bobby and Jo and their fellow officers streamed down the hill. Dean was aware of a blanket covering his back and friendly hands guiding him and Castiel on a stretcher to the waiting ambulances, but he kept his hands on Castiel until the moment they were made to separate at Kansas Hope Memorial.

*** 

Dean smiled when he saw Sam, and the two embraced in a hug. Dean ruffled his brother's hair affectionately.

"We did it, Sammy. It's over now."

"It's all tied up now, Dean. Crowley's lost his biggest client, so he's ratting out any loose ends so he'll stay out of jail. I'm thinking we can get him anyway with the massive amount of parking tickets I dug up on his file."

_"Ya idjit!"_

Both men turned to the sound of Captain Singer striding down the hall. He stopped short in front of Dean and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don't you ever - _ever_ \- pull a stunt like that again! Ya had me worried sick, boy!" And with that he dragged Dean in for a hug.

"Sorry, Bobby. But I had to."

"I know, I know."

They pulled back, and Bobby huffed. "Doc just came in, said Novak should be asleep until morning. He's fine, throat's banged up, but they want to prevent infection and run a few tests before they release him into our custody. You can see him if you want." He handed Dean a bundle up wad of clothing. "I snagged this from your house after we did the preliminary check. It's not being classified as a crime scene, so you're able to go home tonight."

"Thanks, Bobby."

Dean headed towards the recovery rooms, mind whirling a mile a minute. The sense of _déjà_ vu was oppressive, and he half expected there to be blood on his face instead of his arm. He stepped inside the recovery room, and everything fell away at the sight of rumpled dark brown hair and a five o'clock stubble.

Dean unwound the bundle in his lap, smiling when it was revealed to be Castiel's trenchcoat. He sat beside Castiel, tracing the lines of his hand where the IV line was tucked in. There were no tubes this time, or heart monitors beeping ominously, or a thick white bandage covering a near fatal wound. Castiel was fixed up on all his hurts, and the bruises would fade with time. His throat was a mess, but it too would heal. Right now, he needed sleep, to escape the pain and to escape the last months, or even years, of his suffering.

Dean stayed with him, quietly singing a few bars of "Hey Jude" before a kind nurse stepped in to gently say visiting hours were over. Dean nodded in acknowledgement, and leaned over to place the trenchcoat over Castiel's body. He kiss Castiel's forehead before ducking out the door.

"What time do you allow patients to check out tomorrow, miss?"

"The first round of tests begins at 6am, but he'll need the doctor's sign off before he can leave. Cases like his usually wrap up by mid-morning."

"Gotcha. Thank you."

*** 

The drive home seemed endless. Dean was grateful for Sam's company, all the way through dinner and well into the evening. They bickered over a movie and settled on Indiana Jones for the umpteenth time. It kept distracting thoughts at bay, and allowed Dean the chance to come off his own internal cliff and keep things together until the next day. As Sam bid him good night, they made plans to check Castiel out together, and bring him back to the Winchester house.

"You want him here rather than his own home?"

"He's always said he never felt truly at home there. He hated it durin' the last house arrest."

"What are you thinking, Dean?"

The officer sighed, giving in to Sam's needling. "I want him to make this his home."

"That's pretty deep, bro. You ready for that?"

"Have been. This is it for me, Sammy. He's it."

"Thought so. I was wondering how long it would take you."

"Good night, bitch."

"See you tomorrow, jerk."

Dean went to bed in cold sheets and an empty house, purposefully keeping the left side untouched. Castiel's phone sat on the nightstand, his wallet and keys on top of the dresser, his toiletries in the bathroom and his suit jacket still hanging on the desk chair.

If Dean felt a bit like a thief when he took the two remaining photo booth pictures the wallet to look at, no one would know.

If Dean felt a bit like a pervert when took Castiel's suit jacket from the chair and put in on to smell his scent to fall asleep, no one would know.

If Dean felt a bit like a baby when he snatched the stuffed guinea pig from the living room floor and curled up with it in bed to hug tight until morning, no one would know.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

The cell phone rang harshly, jerking Dean from his sleep. He fumbled for it, blearily glancing at the clock's display of Too-Early-To-Do-Anything a.m. before pressing *Talk*.

"What is it, Sammy? We still got a couple of hours until we pick up Cas."

" _That's why I'm calling, Dean. He's gone_."

Dean froze. "What?"

" _I don't know. I phoned them to see about signing off on paperwork, and they told me he checked himself out and left right after his tests were done. No one's heard from him or knows where he went_."

"Fuck!" Dean scrambled up from the bed, hitting the speaker button on the phone and scrambling into his clothes.

"Any clue where he went, anything at all?"

" _Nothing. Bobby and I are heading out to the Roadhouse to check there, Jo and Garth are at his apartment now, and Zedd and Spangler are going through town and checking the warehouse again. We figured you might know a place he goes to a lot, or something_."

"Shit... I got no clue. OK, keep tabs and check in every two hours. I'll... I dunno, I'll head out on the roads outside town."

" _Got it... I'm sure you'll find him, Dean_."

"I will. Not lettin' him go again."

Dean ended the call, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading out to the Impala. He took off, heading to the north road first and then the south road that crossed the town. He checked the park and the Roadhouse. He called Sammy after the two hours to no news, then four hours later to hear that someone had seen a man in hospital attire and a trenchcoat walking down the east road to the edge of town. The sun was high, light filtering the trees when he checked the road which led you out of town once they passed the industry section.

The river. It was a long shot, but maybe...

He pulled up to the Kaw Valley bridge, feeling sick to his stomach that he'd be back here again. The police tape was still up, vans and hazmat personnel long since gone. He parked, gripping the wheel tightly to calm his nerves. He didn't want to go back out there, but he knew he had to, if there was any chance of finding Castiel.

He got out, trudging up the narrow path to the mouth of the bridge, only to stop short when a familiar figure quietly climbed up the riverbank hill. Castiel looked tired, stark bruises apparent against pale skin. The trenchcoat around him hid most of his scrubs from view, and he walked slowly from the bank with his head down.

Dean froze, eyes drinking in the sight and fists clenched tightly. He started off at a dead run, bellowing, "Cas!" Castiel's head jerked up, his eyes widening at the man coming straight at him. "Dean..." he murmured. He hesitated for the barest of seconds before meeting Dean's run with his own.

They collided in the middle of the road, Castiel's hands coming up and squeezing Dean to him for all his worth. Dean as breathing heavily, fingers winding in the back of the dirty trenchcoat before latching onto Castiel's sides and allowing himself to pull back.

They stared at each other, unbelieving blue meeting sparking green. Shaking his head, Dean gripped Castiel's shoulders and pushed forward to meet his lips.

The kisses were hard, punishing, and Dean's grip was nearly brutal. "Damn you..." Kiss. "God _damn_ you, Novak, don't you ever--" Kiss. " _Ever_ do that again!" A bite to the lip. Castiel jerked back, hands on Dean's biceps to see the anger, the furious rage, and glassy sheen of tears in Dean's eye.

He huffed, words fading as his anger teetered the line of control. The lines of his body betrayed whether he should go on a shouting rampage, maybe even hitting something, or loosing himself completely in the warm body before him. He settled for breathing, counting to ten, before releasing Castiel's shoulders and turning away.

"I am so fuckin' mad at you. I had no damn clue where you went, if you'd left again. Not just the hospital, but the city or the damn country or even the fuckin' _continent_!"

Castiel lowered his head. "I... I am sorry, Dean."

"You're damn right you are! I thought... I thought it was _me_ , you dick. I thought I drove you away somehow." He covered his eyes with his hand. "I was so scared you were leavin' me. That I'd fucked up again and lost somethin' I cared about. That you... that maybe you even hated me."

"No, Dean, I could _never_ hate you. I may get annoyed or frustrated with you, but there is no place in my heart for hate when it comes to you."

Castiel reached to grab Dean's arm, turning him slowly back around. He hesitated, then slid his hands down to hold Dean's, and stared at Dean's shoes. "I thought _you_ hated _me_ , for all that's happened."

Dean was silent for a second, then reached up to grip Castiel's jaw. He brought his head up to stare into those incredible eyes, swallowing tightly.

"We've done this before, Cas. Another time where you nearly died because of that douche, and I waited to see if you'd wake up again." Dean blinked back the wetness in his eyes. "But this time, the wait's been so much harder to take." Dean leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. "I don't need anything, 'cept you. Just _you_."

He kissed the eyelids that had closed tightly over blue. "I friggin' _love_ you... so come back to me, Cas. Come back home."

Castiel nodded, the motion jerky and shuddering, but firm nonetheless. "Yes, Dean. Yes. I'm so sorry. I'm so-" His words were lost to the onslaught of Dean's lips, moving and pushing and stroking over his own in a dance of relief and gratitude. Fingers dragged through hair, roved over backs, and whispered words of nonsense filled the air.

After a few moments, they settled. Without words, they walked back to the Impala and drove. To the low melody of rock ballads in Dean's car, they pulled into the driveway of Dean's home. Silently, they held hands up the walk and went inside, returning to each other's arms the moment the door was closed. Just a simple hug, bodies tightly compacted in each other.

Dean could smell the antiseptic lingering in Castiel's hair. Castiel could feel the muscles in Dean's back struggling to relax, the tension nearly shaking his frame. He laid his mouth next to Dean's ear and whispered, "I'm here, Dean." The cop rumbled low in his throat as he slid the trenchcoat off Castiel's body.

He started moving, angling Castiel to walk backwards from the living room to the hallway. At Castiel's nod, Dean took a deep breath and hefted him up in his arms. Castiel wrapped his legs around Dean's waist. He laid his head in Dean's neck, breathing deeply of the scent of cedar and soap, and began to suck kisses into the sensitive spot under his jaw.

Dean gripped his cargo harder, kicked the door to the bedroom open and guided them both down onto the bed. Castiel hit the pillows propped up against the headboard, wincing at his aches, and Dean smoothed the lines of his forehead with gentle kisses.

Dean prided himself on his multi-tasking skills, and the act of kissing and using his hands to remove two pairs of shoes was no big feat for him. Next came the unbuttoning of Castiel's hospital shirt, finger slipping the top knobs from their holes and opening them to reveal the bruised skin of his chest beneath.

He pressed kisses into each one tenderly, pausing to worship the scar again; the symbol of what Castiel was willing to do for him. Because Castiel, he...

"Cas..."

"Dean?"

"What you said in the warehouse... I didn't dream it, right?"

A smile curved Castiel's cut lips, and he shook his head. "No, Dean. I wasn't going to depart this world without saying that." He dragged his fingers through Dean's hair. "I hadn't said it before because it almost didn't seem real. Everything else I've loved was taken away from me by my cousin, and I suppose I felt like he'd take you, too, if I ever gave voice to my heart. But I knew... I knew what was inside me, ever since that day I took the bullet."

Castiel sighed, dropping his hands to Dean's neck. "I wanted to tell you then."

Dean swallowed thickly, gripping the shirt edges and resting his head on Castiel's chest in supplication.

"Say it now. Please, Cas..."

Castiel's hands slid back into Dean's hair, massaging the scalp. He leaned down to kiss the back of Dean's neck. Smiling against the skin, he whispered, "I friggin' love you, Dean Winchester, and I always will."

The words were like the pop of a starter gun. The rest of Castiel's shirt tore in Dean's grasp, exposing all of Castiel's chest, and Dean's hands flew to the top of his jeans. "You got that right, Novak."

Together they fought the rest of their clothes off, limbs tangled in each other's embrace and words dying to noises. It was finally happening. After a year of wondering, yearning, loving and nearly losing, neither man was willing to wait any longer to be together in all ways. Dean's hands wandered over Castiel's arms, mindful of the wounds and bandages. He dragged over his sides, sliding them under and firmly grasping the cheeks of Castiel's ass. He squeezed, let go and ran them back up over Castiel's chest.

Castiel stared up at the ceiling as Dean gently touched over his bruises. "This is home, right here with you," he said softly. Dean stilled, a soft grin on his face he couldn't stop. He opened his mouth to speak, but as usual, words failed.

"Ditto, man."

Castiel rolled his eyes, grinning, and jerked his head towards the nightstand.

Dean reached over it and opened the drawer. He came back to Castiel holding a small bottle of lube and a condom. He paused, completely unsure what to do, what to say, how to even say it. He looked at Castiel almost comically.

Castiel laughed, grabbing the hand and downright smirking in Dean's face. "We can trade off, if you so desire, but right now you need to get the fuck _inside_ me." He lifted his legs lewdly. "Literally."

"For once, you're actually right about interpretation." Dean smiled affectionately, uncapping the bottle and coating his fingers with lube. He sat back on his heels, pulling Cas down the bed onto his lap and using his thighs to hold up Castiel's own. One hand grasped the hard cock in front of him and the other reached under to rub carefully over Castiel's entrance. He slid one finger in carefully, up to the knuckle, and Castiel groaned in pleasure.

A second finger joined, and before long a third, until Castiel was arching up to meet the scissoring thrusts. Dean expertly jacked him, fingers rising and falling along the hard shaft until it grew to curve up against Castiel's stomach.

"God, Dean... it's been so long since I... don't stop, don't stop..."

The heat and smell of sex cut through the air, making Dean dizzy with lust. The sight of Castiel, here on his bed, twisting naked and aroused and begging him for pleasure was more than he'd ever thought he'd see. And considering all they went through, all the fuck ups and near misses and close calls, the fact that they were here together meant maybe - just _maybe_ \- Dean was allowed a piece of Heaven after all.

And damn it, he was going to take it.

Dean removed his hands to open up the condom packet. Castiel sat up, nearly yelling from the absence, feeling the cold emptiness it left behind. Dean chuckled lightly, gently pushing him back down on the mattress. Castiel complied and grabbed the pillow to slid under his hips as his raised his pelvis up level to Dean's. He wriggled impatiently. Soon enough, though, Dean had rolled the condom on and was lining himself up. He pulled Castiel's legs back to slide along his own, angling his hips to touch the head of Dean's cock to the puckered hole.

He kept one hand on his own throbbing shaft, slathering lube from top to bottom, and used the other to cup the back of Castiel's thigh. He squeezed the tense muscles there, murmuring, "Watch me, Novak", and guided himself slowly inside.

Castiel's eyes dilated nearly to black, his mouth slack, his breath coming in panting gasps as he locked onto lush green. The sweat from Dean dripped down on his legs, Dean's own face contorting in agonized bliss. He worked his way in, slowly and carefully, inch by inch, never breaking their vision. He finally bottomed out to the sound of their shared gasps, and he leaned down to drag his tongue along Castiel's throat.

Dean waited for a moment to let Castiel adjust, holding himself still and stroking Castiel's side comfortingly. When Castiel seemed to come back to himself, Dean pushed the man's hair away from his sweaty forehead before placing his hands on Castiel's shoulders. "You ready, Cas?"

Castiel nodded, placing his own hands atop Dean's.

"Yes," he grinned, eyes wide and glassy. "Screw me into the mattress, officer."

Dean nodded, sliding out slowly just to the tip, and surging forward in a slick move. Carefully and steadily, he moved, in and out and in again. The force of it pushed them deeper in the sheets, the smell of fabric softener lightly dusting the air. Huffs of breath passes between them. Every so often a pleasured " _Yes_ " would emit from Dean's mouth as he moved. That instinct of all living creatures to mate and consume drove him, and he slid his hands up the technician's arms to thread their fingers together. He brought their clenched hands to either side of Castiel's head and kissed his mouth hard.

"Look at me, Cas... stay with me..."

Castiel nodded, keeping his sight fixed on Dean's eyes. The press of Dean inside him sent electricity to every nerve in his body and made his blood roil beneath his skin. Castiel tried to even out his breathing, adjusting and adapting as each slide in and out made his flesh tense.

"Here, Dean, I _-ah!-_ I'm here...!"

It was better than he'd ever thought it could be.

 _Dean_ was better, because Dean made him feel alive. The bruises, the cuts, the pain and humiliation; they didn't matter. Dean knew everything about him, every hidden fact and open secret. He found something worth loving in the shell Castiel was, and he dug in further and further to bring it out. He still accepted him, still chose him despite everything, and Castiel knew this was it for him. This was his endgame. Dean or nothing.

Castiel shut his eyes, focusing on the sparks each thrust brought him as Dean began to hit his prostate on every other push, nailing the sensitive bundle of nerves into something molten and ferocious. Soon, Castiel's quiet pants began to accelerate, his voice uncontrollably adding to the atmosphere. "Dean...! Dean...! _Dean_!" It was a mantra, a siren call, a plead for more and everything and never-let-me-go. He slammed his hips up to match Dean's rhythm, and that familiar pressure started to grow inside him. It tightened in his toes, clenched through his fingers, and arched his neck off the pillow.

Dean grunted, letting his hips piston faster, his shaft so hard from the sounds Castiel was making. He never wanted it to end, but he couldn't hold out for too much longer. Something shifted and cracked within him, and he was so damn happy he could cry.

In and out, in and out, breathing, breathing, moaning, groaning, 'Dean, Dean!' and 'Cas, Cas...!'

With a hoarse shout Dean came, eyes clenched shut as his orgasm spilled into the warmth and safety of Castiel's body. He shuddered, still thrusting shallowly to milk every nerve of the man's body. Castiel was gasping now, teetering on his own edge but with no final push to send him over.

Almost in anger, Dean gripped their hands tight above Castiel's head, kissed him hard and grunted furiously in his ear, "Next time, - _nng_ \- you're gonna fuck me _stupid_ , Novak."

Castiel came. He arched his back, the image of himself giving Dean the pleasure he was receiving seared into his brain as his cock jolted, sending a stream of come between their chests. He let out a choked cry, his muscles tightening up, his head swimming with noise and light and joy and _love_. Then he collapsed, bringing Dean down with him until they lay panting and spent on the sheets.

They pressed their foreheads together, eyes meeting as they breathed in each other's air. Lazy, barely there kisses were brushed onto lips as their highs fluttered down and words could be formed.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

***

Later, sore and content to cuddle beneath the comforter, Dean roused himself enough to check his phone. Missing calls and unanswered texts filled the screen, and after browsing through them to send off reassuring messages to Sam and Bobby, he chucked the phone down to the carpet.

"Looks like Bobby 'bout had an aneurysm when I forgot to check in with him. Gonna be hell tomorrow at work."

Castiel shifted, pressing his face into Dean's chest. "I don't look forward to it myself."

"Yeah, but it's over. This is just tyin' up loose ends is all. Then we get to move on to other stuff."

"Such as?"

Dean blinked, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "Well, us, I guess."

"That is true. I suppose we'd better figure out what our best course of action is."

"Yeah, well, no need to rush or nothin', y'know. I get that it's all crazy and shit but we don't gotta do nothin' yet if you don't wa-"

Castiel sat up on his elbows, tweaking Dean's nipple to get his attention fully. "I want to give my landlord thirty days notice and move in here immediately."

"Oh. _Oh_."

"Yes, Dean. 'Oh.' I don't make a habit of spouting nonsense in the heat of the moment. When I said this was home, I didn't just mean being with you. I meant here, in this house. There is love here, and I don't want to be alone anymore. I want to love you every day, share my joy and sorrow with you and help carry your burdens as well. I want something new, I want my family back in my life, I want to see my nieces and nephews and show you to them. I want to belong again."

Dean cupped the back of Castiel's neck and tugged him close, his words firm and earnest. "You belong with me."

"Yes. And you with me."

"No gettin' rid of me now, Novak."

"I don't plan on it. We've yet to take our sexual congress out on one of your treasured stakeouts." Castiel smiled, full of teeth and crinkles in his eyes, and Dean felt the flame inside roar into an inferno that would never die down.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS FINALLY DONE. Nearly half a year of blood, sweat and writer's block have culminated to bring you this final chapter, twice the usual length as a THANK YOU!!! from the bottom of my heart to all my loyal readers and those reading for the first time.
> 
> It's not the final end of their story, though - a timestamp or two might visit us!
> 
> Speaking of which, visit my tumblr at http://avidffreader.tumblr.com/

Dean never could sit still for too long, and the hard plastic chairs up on the stage did little to ease his discomfort. He shifted, and fidgeted, and slouched a time or two before remembering he had a hundred eyes fixed on him and promptly sat up straight. These things never started on time, and only last a few minutes away. He was the only one up here this go around.

His mind kept wandering to the slew of moving boxes waiting to be unpacked at home, the space he needed to clear out in the garage to accommodate a second car, and the lack of food in the fridge for the housewarming party Sam insisted he throw. As each new problem area or chore needing to be done slid across his mind, he countered it with images of soft sheets, two fluffy pillows with head indents, and sleepy blue eyes dancing that line between dreaming and awake. Since Castiel gave notice to his apartment that he was moving out, they had barely any time for each other, and their nights consisted of sleeping - and nothing more. But it was worth it; building blocks for their new future.

Dean scanned the crowd before settling his eyes on Sam, head rising tall in the back row. Dean could just make out Castiel's forehead and hair in the chair beside him. He stifled a smile, trying to be professional and humble by the ceremony about to begin.

Captain Singer was at the podium, Jo at his side holding a medium sized box in her hands. He held up his hand to encourage quietness from the crowd.

"Ladies and gentleman, I'm glad you could all join us for this special occasion. One of our own, Dean Michael Winchester, has been in service to the city of Lawrence for many years now. We've all seen him, breaking up fights, volunteering in the community, and keeping us safe in the night. His work ethic and dedication to justice brings us here today to recognize his achievements and his sacrifice for his fellow man."

"It's with great honor and privilege that we award Officer Dean Winchester of the Kansas State Police Department, Precinct 139, the Lawrence Police Medal Of Meritorious Service, for his work and service in bringing down Lucifer Morning Star and his associates."

"Now don't get your hands up just yet, all," Bobby sniped to the crowd. "We have something else." The cheers died down, heads tilting in curiosity.

"We'd also like to award Officer Winchester the Lawrence Police Medal Of Valor, for his courage and selflessness in rescuing his fellow officer, Castiel James Novak of New York City. Without such an act, Mr. Novak might not be here with us today. And for that, we honor and thank you, Officer Winchester."

The cheers grew, and Dean could see Castiel's cheeks pinking from all the way in the back of the room.

"And last, but not least, all service men and women of Precinct 139 would like to welcome Dean Winchester's promotion into the field of service as the new Sergeant Officer of Precinct 139," Bobby smiled, eyes only slightly damp. "I'm proud of you, boy."

Dean was floored as the two medals were handed to him in pomp ceremony by Bobby, shaking his hand and removing his hat in respect. They were pinned to his uniform, and Jo was all smiles as she put the three V-shaped insignia bars on the top of his chest next to his name. "We'll get you a new shirt next week, just go with it now," she whispered.

Dean stared at his chest in awe, feeling a swell of pride and happiness bubbling up. His eyes pricked with wetness, but he held it back as he saluted Bobby and gave a perfunctory bow. He turned to address the crowd in the same fashion, and they crowed loudly in approval.

The ceremony gently petered out after that, and Dean found himself ensconced in a mosh pit of friends. They were all smiling, cameras being whipped out and different poses and combinations being photographed amongst the decor of the assembly hall. Everyone had something to say, and Dean could barely get a word out in response to each. Castiel hung back, no less happy than the rest, but keeping his words to himself.

"Great, now I have to take even more crap from you, now that you're titled and all," Jo grumbled good-naturedly, slapping Dean on his shoulder.

"Aw, shut it, Jo, you know you've never taken my crap a day in your life."

"This is true."

When Bobby finally kicked them all out for the custodians to work their magic, Jo gave the rally call to head back to Dean's house for the big promotion/housewarming party. As Dean eased the Impala out of the crowded parking lot, Sam and Bobby chatting in the back, he laid a hand on Castiel's thigh.

"You're so quiet."

"Just a little surprised at Bobby addressing me today. I didn't know he had planned on that honor for, but it's no less true. You did save me."

"Seems like that ain't the whole story. What's on your mind, Cas?"

"A few things. But nothing that needs attention at the moment. I don't want to bring the evening down."

Dean frowned, squeezing the thigh beneath his palm. "We can talk later, if you..."

"Yes, Dean. Later."

Dean held his tongue, taking his hand back and focusing on the drive to the house. Castiel's eyes remained on the scenery beyond his window, and in the back Sam waxed poetic about a _stenographer_ named Jessica he met at the courthouse.

*** 

The ET's mood lightened considerably when they reached their home. Within the hour, the house was alive with music, food, drinks and good friends. Garth had the fantastic idea for spread the word in lieu of gifts for the new home (as it wasn't really new, and between the two of them Dean and Cas had all the home essentials they could wish for) and gifts to honor Dean (which _did_ suck, cause Dean was hoping someone would get him the newest season set of _Dr. Sexy M.D_.), everyone was to bring potluck food, drinks and desserts. Most of the station was there, along with the crew from the Roadhouse. Dean's new medals were passed around and admired, with Ellen proclaiming she was getting him a special frame to put above the fireplace.

"We should name a drink after you, in honor of your 'heroic' duties, Dean," Jo smirked, handing his medal for valor back to him. "We could call it Green-Eyed Savior, or Winchester Delight!"

"I'll pass on that, Jo. Hows about an unlimited tab from here on out?"

"Keep dreaming, _Sergeant_." Despite the tease, Jo was beaming over the new title, pride overflowing.

Dean made his way to the kitchen to snag a few snacks, downing a cup of booze on his way. He grinned when he saw Sam chatting up a beautiful petite blonde. He leaned over the counter and slugged his brother in the arm.

"Yo, Sammy. Looks like we did it, right? Thanks for having my back, bro."

Sam rolled his eyes and dragged Dean in for a hug. "As if I ever wouldn't, Dean." When they separated, Sam gestured to the woman beside him. "Dean, this is Jess. She works at the courthouse doing the stenographing for trials. We met the day before the trial that never was."

Dean winked and tipped his head to Jess, patting Sam on the back. "Very nice to meet you, Jess. Sammy here's spoken nothing about you." Sam's ears reddened, and he leveled a glare at his older brother.

"Well, he's spoken so highly of you, Dean! I'm very glad to meet you , too!"

They chatted a bit more until Dean's pocket vibrated. He took out his phone to see the new text message - **we're here** \- and his posture changed. He typed back a short reply, and schooled his features back to easy going. He looked up and put the phone away before addressing the two.

"I gotta do something real quick. Again, very nice to meet you. You take care of him, Jess. His shampoo alone could bankrupt you two, and what would the children think?"

Jess laughed, and Dean grinned as he headed back to the living room, an indignant " _Dean_!" in his wake. He found the object of his search, Castiel standing against a wall as Jo and Garth spoke around him. He was pensive, staring down into his drink and thinking who knows what. Dean swallowed, nerves starting to build a little in the back of his mind. He headed over and tapped Castiel on the shoulder. Castiel brought his eyes up, and nodded when Dean gestured to go with him to the foyer of the front door.

When they were away from prying eyes, Castiel smiled softly, and leaned up to kiss Dean on the lips.

"Hello, Sergeant Winchester. Enjoying your party?"

"Indeed I am, but I'd rather you were enjoying it with me, too. And, uh... I got you a little something that I hope might cheer you up. I mean, I hope it ain't presumptuous or nothin' but it's the best thing I could think of to show you what I mean when I say we're family now."

"Anything you would get me comes from the heart, Dean. How could I refuse that? What is it?"

"Open the door." Dean stepped back, and Castiel could see shadows through the front door window from the porch light.

"Are there more guests outside?" he inquired.

Dean remained silent, fidgeting from foot to foot, and Castiel opened the door to a flush of red hair and a pair of hazel eyes.

"Heeey, bro, long time no see?"

"Gabriel... Anna...?"

His sister lunged forward, gripping him in a hug so tight it was nearly painful. His brother slung an arm about him and brought them both in to his chest. Castiel was in shock, arms locked tight around Anna as if she would fly away, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from Gabriel.

"How- how did you find me?"

"Well, your federal fun buddy over there called one of your old comrades out in NYC, that Dreckman chick who always went to Vegas to see the male revues. She still had our parents' info on file from your cop days, and Dean-o here gave them a call." Gabriel nodded to the man in question, and Dean was glad to reach out and shake his hand. "We took the first flight out, and Mom and Dad want you to come home pronto when you can. It's been rough, Cassie. We've missed you bad."

Castiel pulled back long enough to stare at Dean. "You did this? You found my family?"

Dean chuffed, a hand reaching back to grasp his neck as he looked down. "Yeah, man, I figgered it's about time to get back to normal. Well, normal as it could be. Or was. I mean-" his babble was cut off as Anna about-faced and pulled him for a hug as well.

"Thank you, Dean. You brought us together again. _Thank you._ "

Dean clammed up, returning her hug before stepping back. "I'll grab you guys some drinks, if you want. C'mon in, put your stuff anywhere, join the party! And Cas, uh... I put 'em up in a hotel room just for the night, since the place is a mess, but I can clean it all up tomorrow, cause I invited them to stay with us for a few days. I mean, if that was cool with you. Catch up and all, see the sights. I mean, not much here in Kansas, but maybe a trip out to the city, or callin' your mom? That'd be nice, right?" _Fuck, Winchester, rambling again. Get your shit together._

Castiel blinked, nodded his head silently. He turned to his brother, eyes suspiciously bright. "Please, go into the kitchen, help yourself. Dean's brother Sam is the very tall man with long hair, introduce yourself. I'll be there shortly. Dean, if you would?"

He gestured to Dean to follow him as he went down the hallway towards their bedroom. Dean gulped, following suit. _Dude. WHY did you think it was a good idea to bring his family here? Without asking? You're shit at this, just plain shit._

He breathed a nervous breath as he walking into their room, only to have hands gripping his arms tight and a hot mouth planting itself firmly on his lips. Dean brought his up on instinct, clutching at Castiel's back as the breath was sucked out of him. Castiel was relentless, licking his way into Dean like his soul depended on it, and Dean could feel wetness pressing between their cheeks. He pulled back, surprised to see Castiel irritatingly swiping away tears from his cheeks. His eyes seemed almost angry in their fierceness, and he breathed as if he'd run a mile.

"Dean Winchester, you are inconceivable. You do what you think is right and just, you care for everyone you're in charge of, and rarely think of yourself first. You are stubborn and infuriating at times, and I never know just what step you'll take next in this dance we have, and I have never - _never_ \- seen anyone love as much as you. What you just did... for me... I have never been given so big a gift, and I cannot even speak right now."

He leaned forward and kissed Dean again, strong yet short, laying his hand over Dean's crotch.

"I almost can't believe you are with me, and when this party ends tonight we are going to come in here and break every picture on the wall with the force of the bed shaking. Is that clear?"

Dean nodded dumbly, his dick flaring in heat and interest at Castiel's words. Castiel yanked him back, kissing his roughly as his hands dipped straight down Dean's jeans and gripped his ass tight. "This is mine tonight," he seethed, and rolled his hips sharply into Dean's groin. With that, he ducked around Dean's frame and left the room without another word.

 _Whoa_.

Dean slumped against the wall, staring straight ahead.

"Whoa."

*** 

If Castiel had a couple more drinks that night than usual, no one really noticed, and if they did it stood to reason he was just indulging in the happy mood his estranged siblings had given him. Jo and Anna got along great, Gabriel took to Sam like a duck to water, and an impromptu photo of the three Milton siblings (well, two Miltons and a Novak) was sent to their parents on Anna's phone. Castiel once again fought off tears as he received a photo in return of his parents, crying and joyful that their son was safe and ready to connect again.

It was near midnight when people began to disperse, and Dean was smug to note that all the leftover food would tide them over for the rest of the week. He waved Sam goodbye as he escorted Jess back to her home, and Castiel was fierce in his hugs with Gabriel and Anna before Jo took them to their hotel, promising he would meet them the next day for lunch and to bring them back to the house for a real visit.

As their lights faded down the block, Dean headed back inside. Castiel still hadn't spoken to him since his siblings had arrived, and he was already wrapping up and putting food in the fridge. Dean's body thrummed with excited tension, and he walked circles in the living room cleaning up and putting trash into bags to take out to the garbage cans. After his task, he closed the front door and locked it. He turned to face Castiel, only to see him standing in the living room, arms crossed and gaze boring into Dean's eyes.

The man stalked forward, smoothing his hands down Dean's henley and fitting their fingers together. He pulled Dean along behind him as they made their way down the hallway, flicking off lights as they went. When they reached the dark interior of their bedroom, Castiel let go of their fingers and they both entered the bathroom. The silence was a little unnerving, but Dean plowed through washing his face and brushing his teeth to shake it off. Castiel was faster, and made his way back into the room. Dean watched him go, fingers itching to grab the man and haul him back. Instead he shucked his shoes and socks, unlooping his belt to drop it in the clothes hamper. He tried to think of the best thing he could do to get ready for whatever was to come, and settled on getting a wet washcloth and going to town as best he could south of the equator. He spend a few minutes at it, and by the time he emerged from the bathroom, Castiel had set their phones to charge and pulled back the sheets. He passed Dean and opened the blinds to let moonlight spill across the floor.

"Cas."

Dean's voice was rough, and Castiel responded by pulling his shirt off. He kept his eyes to the floor as he removed his own slacks, stepping out of them and his shoes. He pressed a hand to Dean's chest and backed them up to fall on the bed. Dean caught him as he followed the unspoken instruction, and together they laid in the quiet of the night and listened to each other breath.

Dean could feel Castiel's jaw trembling against his chest, and he brought the man's head up to kiss his forehead. "I take it I did good, but mind giving me a few words here, Novak?" he murmured against the skin.

Castiel pulled himself up closer and kissed Dean, pressing soft lips against each other in an unhurried and lingering fashion. His hands moved to Dean's sides, and stroked up and down until they reached the hem of his shirt. They moved as one to removed it, chucking it somewhere over the side of the bed, and Castiel pressed kisses to Dean's throat and collarbone.

"Anna graduated college, Dean, and Gabriel owns his own bakery and candy store back in Manhatten. My father's finally retired after years of bugging him, and mother got a senior promotion at her own job to finish out her career. They all moved on after I left, and kept growing and thriving without me."

"Cas, I'm sure it's not like that-"

"It's not. I know it isn't. I'm happy because I didn't drag them down, I didn't cripple their own progress and lives in the process of changing my own. And it's only been a year or so... they were all on the cusp of these changes while I was there before. I just missed the final legs."

He sank lower on the bed, hands squeezing Dean's thighs through the fabric of his boxer briefs, and he mouthed at the steadily growing erection within. Dean's breathing stuttered, and he reached his hands up to grab the headboard.

"I can now go on with them, and come back into their lives and them into mine. I'm not denied anymore, and it's because of you. You, Dean, who came into my life and changed it when I didn't want it to, but I see now that when an opportunity comes, it's better to risk falling further than deny what could be."

Castiel pushed Dean's legs up to plant them by his side, and slid his hands under Dean's hips to grab the band of his underwear, scraping lightly over the small of Dean's back. He pulled it down and up, exposing Dean's firm cheeks and leaving it to rest just under his sac. Dean jerked a bit as the air hit his entrance, and sat his head up.

"Don't want a peek at the goods, Cas?" he said nervously. It's didn't go unnoticed, and Castiel stopped his exploration of Dean's ass before meeting his eyes. "What's wrong, Dean?"

Dean licked his lips, hands coming to touch Castiel's hair, and decided to be truthful. "I've been with plenty of ladies and dudes, Cas, but when it came to fun times I was always the giver. And I _loved_ it, don't get me wrong, but they were never serious relationships. One night stands or friends with benefits deal, no one ever got hurt or played. But this, uh... this I wanted to save for a partner I could trust and love totally. So, uh, you're gonna hafta be patient with me, you know?"

Castiel's shocked face slowly melting in a smile. Plenty of times Dean had said 'I love you', all of them honest and true, but this spoke more truthfully of that statement than the actual words ever could.

"For you, Dean, anything. Anything. I'm honored by your trust and love."

"Ok, ok, don't get sentimental and wordy on me, baby, just- just make it good for us. I cleaned up as best I could and all, at least I know that much."

Castiel chuckled, running a hand up Dean's stomach to tweak a nipple. "Oh, it will be good. You are my focus, Dean, and to give you this gift is only the start of my thanking you for bringing me my family and bringing me home. Now don't move."

He left Dean there briefly to collect what he needed, the tell-tale crinkle of a condom hitting the bedspread and the - _click_ \- of the lube cap sent a jolt of energy through Dean, and he resumed his grip on the headboard. A towel and their bottle of lube followed suit, and Castiel positioned himself. He carefully pulled the underwear off of Dean's legs, and leaned in to kiss the top of his pubic bone before disappearing from view, laying on his stomach at Dean's crotch. He guided Dean's legs back up to put his feet on the bed, and gently pushed them to their sides to fall open to his scrutiny.

"Relax, Dean, just let yourself feel it and talk to me however you wish."

Dean closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and keeping his feet firm on the mattress as Castiel trailed a lubed finger lightly over his hole. He passed it back and forth, circling the rim and going up just enough to graze Dean's balls before coming back down. He smoothed his hands over the globes of Dean's ass before angling his fingers to cup them, and carefully pulling the sides apart. He gently breathed over the sensitive opening, eyes moving up to Dean's flushed face.

 _Oh an oh man, this is it, Winchester, better suck it up and take it,_ Dean thought, anticipation and lust at war with uncertainty and just a hint of fear. He knew Castiel would never purposefully hurt him, but this was new territory, and he'd never really did much back there before, past a finger or two out of curiosity. He'd cleaned up, there were condoms and buttload of lube (Dean snickered to himself at that) and dammit, everyone _else_ seemed to like it fair enough when they were takin' the old Winchester Rifle, so why should he be denied that same feeling?

"Dean. You're too tense."

Dean exhaled the breath he didn't even know he was holding, and Castiel slid his hands up to rub gently at the apex of his thighs.

"We can wait, if you wish. We can switch positions. I just want to be with you tonight, it doesn't matter to me how we do it."

Dean shook his head, more frustrated at his body language than anything else. "I want to do this, Cas, I'm just not sure how to get over it. S'hard to relax, y'know?"

Castiel looked thoughtful, then nodded decisively. "All right, then."

He returned to his position, propping himself up on his elbows and hoisting Dean's legs over his shoulder. He reached to Dean's sides and joined their hands together as he leaned in. Dean's momentary confusion over the absent fingers was blanked from his mind at the first press of - _fuck_ \- Castiel's tongue.

Castiel angled to a point and slowly slide into Dean, allowing the flexible muscle to contour and fit to the tight ring of muscle. He curled his tongue up, pushed it side to side within Dean, and folded it occasionally to allow the stretching to ease. Dean was startled and pleased when he felt no pain, just the weird fullness of something going where nothing had before. It didn't really do too much, but it wasn't bad, only a faint twinge here and there as Castiel's tongue expanded as far as it would go. Dean gradually felt his muscles relax, going soft and pliable as Castiel worked, until the tongue fucking was smooth and easy.

"I'm going to add a finger, Dean. Stay with me. Do whatever you must to keep relaxed and focused."

The rumble of Castiel's voice so close to his balls definitely sparked a twitch in his dick. Dean nodded, squeezing Castiel's fingers, and let go of one hand to grasp himself. He slowly jacked up and down, keeping an easy pace, and concentrated on his breathing again as Castiel slid one finger inside him along with his tongue. He alternated tongue only to finger only, pressing down and dragging the pad of his finger to the curling of his tongue. Dean's body was still relaxed, and Castiel briefly untangled their remaining clasped hand to join Dean's other one in stroking Dean's cock.

There was a slight burn now, but Dean's focus was taken from that to the warm grip on his dick, and he opened an eye to stare at it. He curled his feet under Castiel's chest, encircling the bobbing head between his legs, and said, "The burn's goin' away, Cas, how many is it?"

"Just one, Dean, but I'll add a second and third to maintain the burn for you to get used to. That means that the same level of discomfort you're feeling is tolerable for a wider and wider passage, and when it's time for four fingers, you won't feel pain."

"F-four?!"

"If you can take four, you can take me."

Ohh, this was definitely gonna be _good_.

Castiel added the second finger, tighter now with the tongue, and all that lube can't taste nice. The rough scrape of the muscle and the gentle twisting of Castiel's fingers had Dean melting, and it was easy to relax now that rocket flares were spreading throughout his body. Even his hand had stopped jacking himself because downstairs was having a party right now.

Castiel removed his tongue, grinning at Dean. "Now for three. Feeling good?"

" _Fuck_ , yeah." Castiel smiled wholly, levering himself up and over to kiss Dean, but it was short-lived. "Ok, first thing tomorrow, flavored lube, Cas. Nasty."

"I know. And for your wondering, no, you taste fine. Just skin and sweat."

Oh thank God, he did it right. Hmm, maybe he could reciprocate the favor. Next time.

Castiel added a third finger, the squelch and squish of the lube masked by Dean's groan. That damn burn, if only it'd go away. Still, it was tolerable and easing up faster and faster each time. Dean's hips began to move, and Castiel paused his own thrusts to allow Dean the control. Dean angled them, encircling and arching down, adjusting to fit them until the burn faded away and heat took its place.

"Here is the fourth, Dean, but now I know your body, I'll give you something to counter it."

He added the fourth finger and _shit_ that almost hurt, that was a lot, almost too big, and Dean's hard work at relaxing and enjoying this was flying out the fucking window and Castiel doesn't deserve a man who can't give him what he wants and _dammit_ Dean, you dumb sonnuva-

 _SONNUVABITCH_!

Castiel angled his fingers just so and hit that sweet spot inside and Dean was done. He jerked, incredible pressure soaring, and it felt absolutely awesome. His eyes shot open and stared at the triumph on the technician's face; Castiel always delivered on his promises. Dean nodded frantically, eyes bright.

"Again, baby-!"

Castiel jabbed, short and quick, hitting Dean's prostate again and sending another jolt through his body. He twisted and pressed and stroked back and forth, keeping his touch easy but firm, until Dean was shaking and gasping out guttural sounds that barely resembled Castiel's name. He slowly tapered off until the thrusts became loose and pliable, and Dean looked at him like he'd hung the moon.

"I can make you come now, Dean. I can turn you inside out and make you feel like you haven't a bone in your body. And when that happens, you won't feel a thing when I enter you other than bliss and fulfillment. That is what I felt when I was one with you, and that is what I want to give you with everything I have in me."

"In me, you mean," Dean wheezed, chuckling weakly at his own joke. He nodded though, more than willing to experience what Castiel wanted him to. There was no doubt they were doing this again, _soon_ , and Dean already knew he wanted to feel Castiel loose it inside of him the same time he did.

"Do not touch yourself, Dean."

What.

"Hold tight to a pillow, or to the sheets, but do not touch your cock."

Without waiting for compliance, Castiel returned his fingers to Dean, only two, and pressed his thumb on the perineum beneath Dean's balls. He levered his other arm across Dean's hip to secure him, and began to pump hard. Almost every thrust hit Dean prostate head on, and molten fire began coursing through Dean's veins.

He gripped the sheets, hips frantically jutting against the restraint of Castiel's arm, and his eyes squeezed shut as an orgasm crept steadily through his being. He bit his lip, forcing his hands to remain at his sides, and his stiff cock strained with desire. Precome had pearled at the tip and slowly dripped down his sides, hotly coating Castiel's wet fingers as they plunged inside him.

Dean lasted only a few seconds more, and just after Castiel murmured an "I am completely in love with you..." against his thigh, Dean found his release and came. His cock spurt upon him, and he clenched his asscheeks against the thick fingers, and for a moment there Dean thought he'd surely black out.

The color returned to the world as Dean floated down from his orgasmic high, and smiled, a lazy lethargy stealing over him as the sex-laden workout did its magic.

"You're ready," Cas whispered, removing his fingers and shakily opening the condom wrapper with his teeth. He smoothed it on his cock, already stiff and aching and ready to blow, added more lube (seriously, never enough), and gently rolled Dean to his left side. Dean fell over like a rock, cheek pressed to the pillow and sleep knocking on his mind's door. He hadn't felt that worn since... well, the last time they did this.

"How do you want me, Cas?" he broke out.

Castiel slid his arm under Dean, holding it across the officer's chest and splaying his hand over a pec. "Just lie there and feel me, Dean. I've got a hold of you. Breath deeply now."

Castiel lifted Dean's top leg up in his other arm, cradling it in his elbow inward to the bed. Dean felt himself open up, exposed to the air, and lube still coating him was cool on his rim. He inhaled as instructed, and Castiel slid in hard and warm and so damn easy it felt like coming home. The thickness and blunt pressure of him had Dean drawing out a long groan, heat suffusing his face and every ridge of his insides singing in sensitivity. Castiel paused, buried to the hilt, and he breathed harshly on Dean's neck.

"I could stay in you, forever. It feels so good, so warm and tight, Dean... I- I wish I could do more for you, but I need it now-!"

Dean angled his head back to kiss Castiel's cheek, mustered up his strength and clenching down on the cock inside him. Castiel cried out, thrusting forward once and clutching Dean to his chest like he would fly away. He let go, pulsating inside the officer and seeing stars behind his eyelids. A sob broke out into Dean's neck, and he rubbed his face into it, kissing anything he could.

The rest was a blur after that; Castiel had enough prescience of mind to utilize the towel as best he could, and dropping the condom into the bedside trashcan with an echoing - _plop!_ \- before returning to his position and cuddling Dean close.

"Thought you liked the left side, Cas," Dean slurred, exhaustion shrouding his words.

"I do, especially when I am your little spoon. But tonight I just want you against me." There was a hint of pride in Castiel's opinion that he was able to get that sentence out fully. Already his mind was dreaming up surreal images that preceded sleep, but he had one last niggling though to dispel. The last dredge of low self-esteem he'd harbored since his life was upended so long ago.

"Dean... if you ever leave me... I would understand, but I don't think I..." His words faded away, balking at the thought of losing everything again. "Just make it painless... please?"

Dean opened his eyes, clarity returning long enough for him to thread his fingers through the hand on his abdomen. He held them tight, bringing them to his lips to kiss each knuckle. He lingered on Castiel's fourth one, nipping the skin and laving his tongue on the red mark.

"No way, Novak. Family now. Getcha the ring to prove it."

"You mean-?"

"Yeah. I mean." Dean rolled to his back, staring Castiel in the eyes and bringing their hands to lay over his heart. "You're the end of the line for me, pal. Knew that for a while now... you want in?" The world hung in Dean's eyes, every hope out for Castiel to see, and every possible future dancing in front of him.

Castiel smiled, feeling tears prick his eyes. It seemed to be the day for waterworks after all. He kissed Dean full on the mouth, and leaned his forehead against his lover's - his fiancé's.

"I do."

_I do._

THE END


End file.
